UKUS: Last Chance
by Annabelle-Kirkland
Summary: Alfred (America) has been move to another school... again. But this time he gets a rather peculiar teacher named Mr. Kirkland (England). Arthur promises to get the seventeen-year-old through his senior year but something starts to happen between them, they realize they are more similar than they though. Maybe this oddball teacher and troubled student can create something together.
1. Chapter 1

Alfred pushed his glasses up his nose, glancing up at the door number. He then looked back down at his schedule, frowning slightly. This was the right room alright, 221B. But why did it look rather odd? After transferring to the new high school for the fifth time this year, this was the weirdest school he had been to yet. He struggled around his thoughts of what was making it such a peculiar placement. He realized he had stopped in front of the door, and looked at the brass-colored handle. He tucked the piece of paper into his pocket before grasping the door handle, and turning it ever so slightly.

He peeked into the room, unsure if a class was already in there. To his surprise, only one person was in there. He observed the figure, the man, probably in early twenties, as he sat at a desk typing rapidly on his computer. He had unruly blonde hair that made him look like he had just rolled out of bed, thick eyebrows that were due for a trim, and piercing green eyes that stayed glued to the screen.

The American raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something but the blonde beat him to it. "Yes I can see you perfectly fine Mr. Jones, sit down," he said with a light, but clearly evident, British accent. Alfred jumped back slightly, surprised not only by the accent but by the teacher's knowledge of him and his presence. Not only was this school outright weird, but so were the teachers.

Knowing it was too late to back out now, he slipped into the room and glanced around to find a seat. Only one other desk sat in the small room, and it was right in front of the teacher's work spot. He glanced at the teacher, watching as he did a little dance with his thumbs. Great, he was going to have to sit right in front of this oddball for the rest of the year. He failed to remember that there should have been more students in this class, and didn't question it. Maybe if he was lucky enough he could get transferred again.

He sat down in his seat, looking around to get a better look at the room. There was a British flag that hung on one wall (he needed no explanation) along with various other posters from what he guessed was British television. Doctor Who, Sherlock, Merlin, Torchwood, and so on. On another wall were posters still, but very much different. There was a signed Green Day one, Queen, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and Iron Maiden. Not something you would expect from the average high school teacher. The third wall had a Smart Board along with two white boards that flanked the sides. But the fourth was completely empty except for a piece of paper taped to it.

What kind of psycho was sitting behind that desk?

Abruptly, the Brit shut his laptop and spun towards the student. Alfred just about flung back in his seat, being scared rather easily, but sat up straighter. The chair being attached to the desk made him feel bulky and huge, which he was. His height was getting closer to over six foot four and played football in his free time. Or he used to anyway.

"Sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Jones," he picked up a stack of papers and tapped it on the desk to straighten them into a neat pile, "I was filling out an e-mail. I hope you didn't mind." The blue-eyed dirty blonde shook his head and leaned back in his seat the best he could as his "teacher" set the papers aside.

"Don't mind at all-" he quickly pulled his schedule and squinted at the small printed name, "…Mr. Kirkland?"

"That is what I am called, yes," Mr. Kirkland folded his arms over his chest, "And you are Alfred. And that is a chair. And that is a schedule you are holding. You are rather observant Mr. Jones." Alfred's face flushed and he shrunk down a little.

"I-I was just clarifying. I didn't want to be wrong or insult you," he glanced around, trying to find something to change the subject, "You've gotta interesting set up here sir."

"Well what did you expect? Some unicorns? A few rainbows to brighten up your day perhaps? Well sorry to break it to you sweetheart but this is my classroom, not the counselor's office." As he talked, the Englishman kept the same static expression on his face. All that managed to do was make the American get madder, rather annoyed with the teacher's attitude.

"Dude are you just going to sit there and try to mess with everything that comes out of my mouth?!" he snapped, leaving in with his blue eyes narrowed. But as he got angry finally, Mr. Kirkland laughed.

"Finally! Oh my I thought it was going to take forever to crack you out of that fake shell of yours! Mr. Jones I have read your files from previous teacher, politeness was not once mentioned. All I got was, 'anger issues', 'talkative', and my favorite, 'ignorant to the importance of an intellectual environment'. Well when you have teachers describing school like that," he leaned back in his chair with a smirk, "I don't blame you for being a little difficult." The man was no longer the monotone smart alek, now he was a full-blown smart ass.

Alfred stared at him for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened. Was this guy insane?! "Excuse me?" he asked carefully, trying to keep anger out of his voice.

"You're excused," he sat up straighter as the student's jaw dropped, "Now let's get through all of those fun introductions, shall we? I'll go first since you seem a little shocked at the moment. I am Arthur Kirkland, as it says on your schedule. You can call me Mr. Kirkland or Arthur if you aren't the formal type. Now you are Alfred Jones, correct? What should I call you?"

The poor kid was still stuttering, not knowing how to respond to this teacher. No one he had ever met in the schools he had been had been like this. A teacher he had always talked to him like he was five, this one talked to him like he was one of his drinking buddies or something. Either that or he was just toying with him. Both of the options startled him. "U-um-"

"Um?" Arthur tilted his head to the side then shrugged, "Well if that's what you go by I won't question. Now that all formalities are set aside, Um, we can now discuss your education history. Past grades, assignments that bring up concerns, discipline such as suspension, referrals, and so on."

"Hey," Alfred crossed his arms and gave him a glare, "One, don't call me um. Two, I prefer Alfred or Al if you don't mind 'sir'. Three, I'm really not in the mood to deal with all of this shit. What kind of teacher are you anyway?" He knew that cursing was against the student handbook and such, but he really didn't care. Hopefully it would get him out of this school. He didn't care if it was just three days away from this nutjob having ISS instead.

But instead of getting mad at him, Mr. Kirkland smiled. "You are really that oblivious? Oh well, I guess I'll spell it out for you," he folded his hands on the desk, "I am your last resort. You have been to thirty-six different schools Alfred, and that must be a record as far as my knowledge goes. You are seventeen, correct?"

"I'm turning eighteen in eight months!" he argued immediately, just out of automatic reflex. The Brit waved him off with his right hand, sighing.

"Oh my don't get your panties in a wad," he glanced up, "I am simply asking your current age. And by the information you had just given me out of spite, I now know that my hypothesis is correct. I am twenty-one, we are only four years apart. I know you are used to teachers who are practically dinosaurs and only focus on trying to make you a perfect student. I on the other hand, do not want to do that. You can't change a person Alfred. I graduated from high-school early, at the age you are now. I went to college, got my degree, and now here I am. I'm not going to sugar coat it Al, you're here because no one wants you in their classroom. I was the only one who would be able to stand having you as a student. I teach what people call, 'troubled kids'. You sir, are one of those students according to the department of education."

This hit the American like a ton of bricks, eyes wide with shock. A... troubled student? Sure he wasn't the brightest and he could be rather troublesome but did that really make him a trouble kid? He didn't mean to cause what they classified as a mentally troubled child. He wasn't stupid, and he wasn't a bad kid. Or at least he tried not to be.

"M-Mr. Kirkland…" he swallowed hard, "You don't understand. I'm not a horrible person! All those fights-!"

"Had nothing to do with you," Arthur finished for him, "And I know that. I am here to show those principals and directors that you are a smart person. Alfred, if you fail my class you have no more options. They can't let you go on. You'll be stuck with me every single year until you finally pass the class, or they expel you. And if that's the rout you plan on, you will never be accepted back into a school. They won't want you ruining their perfect picture school. But there is no such thing. So, instead of us bickering back and forth constantly, let's get you where you want to go. Tell me about yourself."

"M-me?" he choked out, pointing to himself rather limply. The Brit gave a sharp nod and rested his chin on his folded hands as he propped his elbows up on the table.

"Yes, you. There is no one else in this classroom after all. Now tell me about yourself. Do you have siblings? Pets? Hobbies? I'm guessing you have to be in some sort of sport. Do you have a favorite subject in school?"

"U-um…" he rubbed the back of his neck, "Well I have a twin brother. His name is Matthew but people don't always know we are related. We look alike but he's really quiet and I'm not according to everyone else. I have a cat… he has white fur and brown fur that makes him look ten times bigger than he actually is. Hobbies… I like video games and I enjoy going to McDonald's with my brother. He doesn't like the food but I do so he goes with me anyway. I used to be on the football team but I gave up on trying out because I knew I would just be shipped off to the next school. Other than that…" he shrugged, "I'm your average teenager."

While he talked, Arthur actually nodded and didn't make any comments. He was listening for once. "What about your birthday?"

"B-birthday?" he was a little surprised, "Can't you just look that up on that computer of yours?"

"Yes, but I want to hear it from your own mouth. What's your birthday?"

"July fourth."

"Favorite food?"

"Anything from McDonald's dude!"

"Favorite genre of music?"

"Huh?"

"What's your favorite type of music?"

"Oh! Whatever I guess. As long as it isn't that classical stuff."

"Book preference- I mean what is your favorite book."

"Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien," he said immediately, sitting up straighter when mentioning it. For once, Alfred had left Mr. Kirkland speechless.

"No offense, but you don't seem like the boy who would be reading 'Lord of the Rings' in their free time. Now I love the book, but you just don't strike me as a person who likes that kind of story. It is rather long and can get boring at parts." Al responded with a simple shrug, relaxing into his chair once again.

"I don't find it boring. The story has my idol in it," he smiled slightly, "Frodo was the least likely person to have such a terrible task. He knew the ring would drive him to insanity, yet he still took it to Mordor. And he still had the heart of a hero to not kill Gollum, or Sméagol in the further chapters. People say that Sam did all the work, but no. He was too rash to realize the important things like saving an innocent life. It is not our job to decide who has the right to live and who dies in this world. When we have that power, it turns us into a God. And no one can hold that power without going insane." Alfred was a little shocked at himself, nothing he had ever said had been so complex and complicated.

And even better, Arthur was looking at him with a pleased expression. "See? Your old teachers were wrong. You are a genius. Not stupid, ignorant, thoughtless, or whatever else they tried to tell you. Alfred, you have a brain in that head of yours. A rather brilliant one at that when you try. Now here is what I am asking you to do, it won't take much," he held his hand out, "Trust me with your education. I just want to help you get through high school and graduate. Are you willing to deal with me for the rest of the year? Then you can walk across that stage, diploma in hand, and head held high. Well, Mr. Jones? Are you up to it?"

Alfred stared at the pale hand that was in front of him. Small and dainty, like a woman's. Could he really trust this psycho with his future? But, what choice did he have? After fighting with his conscious he took the hand and shook it carefully.

"Deal, Mr. Kirkland."

To Be Continued... Maybe


	2. Chapter 2

"You sure about this Al…?" Matthew mumbled, clutching his bags close to his chest as he followed his older brother. His dirty blonde hair that was slightly darker than his twin's was cut to his chin in smooth waves, a single curl of hair sprung from the part of his hair and hung in front of his face, violet eyes scanned what was in front of him, and his thin wired framed glasses perched on his nose. He was rather cute, like he should still be in middle school. Alfred simply nodded as he chewed on some gum he had gotten at his school, his backpack slung over his shoulder without much thought.

"Dude I'm positive, there's no other way," he sighed, "Trust me, I tried talking to him about other options. If I don't manage to make through this year with that oddball then I'm out. No more tries, this is my last chance. Really I don't like it either, but I really want to graduate with you. I promised mom that I would, remember? I am many things Matt, but a promise breaker and liar is not any one of them. I am going to walk across that stage with you whether you like it or not. I don't care if I have to spend all of my school years over again with that psychopath." It seemed a bit extreme, but the promise was important.

Matthew bit his lip and smiled over at him weakly. "Well… as long as you really are up to it… I won't argue… just please try not to start a feud with him…" he added quietly.

To that the American just laughed. "Dude, me? Start a feud?! I would like never do that!" he tried to convince his brother with a grin but all he got was a raised eyebrow.

"Al… no offense but you aren't the uh…" Matt rubbed the back of his neck, "…you can be a little difficult if you know what I mean…" The smile faded and Alfred sighed, his shoulders slumping in an almost defeated sort of manner. The Canadian was a lot smarter than he thought, and always managed to read him like a book. Even though they hadn't lived together for their whole life the connection had always been there.

"Look… I just want to try to get through the year," he looked up at the sky, "And I know I keep saying how horrible Mr. Kirkland is but actually… he really isn't a bad guy. Sure he's a little… weird, but he really tries to understand me. We didn't even do any learning today, we just talked and did some random activities. He didn't say much about himself though, he just hammered me with questions about myself." That's really what made him rethink his first thoughts about the Brit. Even though they had just met, Al was comfortable saying so much to him. He told stories of football games, childhood nightmares, and even his mom…

_"Who are your parents?" Arthur asked as he looked up from his piece of paper. The two were drawing at the moment in an attempt to show what kind of learner the American was. Al bit his lip in concentration, trying to erase a poorly done line without ripping a hole through the paper._

_"My mom and dad divorced when me and Matt were six," he redrew the line to distract himself, "I went with our mother and Matthew went with our father. He went to live in Canada but I stayed in America. But after a… incident my mother left me. My dad moved down here with Matt so we could be together again. He thought it would be best for me to cope if I was around familiar faces and my mom's relatives. But really I can't stand it." Mr. Kirkland kept his gaze on his drawing, mouth set in a thin grim line._

_"I understand if you don't want to talk about it," he whispered with a soft voice, "But may I ask what happened to your mother?" Alfred felt his heart twist as the memories came in a slow steady stream. He didn't know how, but he found himself telling the story anyway._

_"She died seven years back," the grip he had on his pencil tightened, "Car accident. She was in the same car as her boyfriend but he was drunk. She tried to stop him from driving once she figured it out but he… he hit her in the head and in the process veered off the road. The hood smashed into a tree and if my mother had been conscious… she would have had a chance at surviving. But…" his breathing quickened a little as his anger grew, "Because of that… that bastard she was hunched over! The front of the car was pushed back from the force of the tree and the dashboard rammed right into the top of her head! Her skull was cracked and she was dead immediately… that jerk still had her brains on his shirt when he was arrested! He had my mother's blood on his hands! LITERALLY! Yet…" the pencil snapped between his fingers, "He blamed her! He didn't even admit it was his fault!"_

_"Mr. Jones!" Mr. Kirkland yelled, grabbing his shoulders, "You're going to break the desk! Just calm down… I know what it's like to lose a loved one. I know what it's like to see the blood stained on someone else and them to be oblivious to the future they had destroyed. See Alfred… with memories of the past there is only one for each minute, each second. But with a future taken away, that is an infinity different possibilities for every second. Something so precious, that isn't something to just take away. But don't take it out on the poor furniture."_

_Al looked down at the desk and realized he had in fact just about pounded the desk into two halves. A long jagged crack separated it now. Almost like the heart in his chest, slowly breaking…_

He had never seen someone so scared. Arthur Kirkland, his teacher, was scared of his strength. That he wanted to change, he didn't want the Englishman to fear him. If he was afraid, he would treat him like others.

Mr. Kirkland was something special.

~LE TIMESKIP~

After a long walk from school, the twins arrived at their house. "DAD!" Alfred yelled, "WE'RE HOME!" The house was dark, obvious that a certain parent had been too lazy to drag himself out of bed. "Guess he hasn't gotten up yet…" Al mumbled bitterly, glaring at a pile of empty bottles that reeked the smell of beer. It was obvious the only chance of their father getting off of his ass was to get more to drink or go to the bathroom. Even that was debatable, if he was feeling tired enough he wouldn't care if he wet himself.

Matthew flinched and clutched the American's arm out of reflex. "I-I think we should go somewhere else…" he mumbled as he glanced up at the taller sibling, "Dad was in a bad mood last night and you know how that lasts… maybe we could hit the library or McDonald's if you want… please… can we just go? I don't want to make him mad…"

Alfred bit his lip and looked down to see his brother's terrified expression. No way could he just ignore the Canadian's pleas. "Well… okay. Go get what you need and I'll put the trash out and stuff, ten minutes. Got it?" Matt nodded immediately and rushed off to his room. Al sighed and went to the kitchen to get the trash bags.

This was a pretty normal routine for the two ever since their dad lost his job five years back. First he loses his wife, then his parents, then his job. That had to have been the breaking point for him. The Frenchman went from a rather successful business man, to an old drunk. The only time he came out from his room was to get beer or yell at them. Either way, Al didn't care for seeing him. He was a jerk who lost all reasons to live anymore.

In the span of eight minutes he lugged the trash bags onto the curb, cleaned the fridge out, Febreezed the house, loaded the dishwasher, switched the laundry, got twenty bucks for McDonald's, and unclogged the toilet. With still two minutes to spare, he got his laptop and checked his e-mails. What surprised him, the most was a message from Mr. Kirkland. He raised an eyebrow and opened it with some sort of anticipation.

Kirkland, Arthur

[sconeslover ]

2:45 (1:23 hours ago)

Dear Alfred "Um" Jones,

Well I can say you have made some rather amazing progress. Now I know you're probably rereading that sentence about five or six times thinking, "What progress? All we did was talk and draw pictures" and you are right. But this helped me figure out how to help you learn.

You are a rather different learner Mr. Jones, unique in fact. I noticed it when you were talking to me about hobbies. Unless the topic interests you or you have a passion for it, you refuse to try. I understand how that is, I used to work the same way before I entered college. But already I know what you like and what topics will capture your interests. I will figure out how to make my lesson plans abide to your specific hobbies. Also I recommend you join some clubs or a sport, you'll need some sort of stress reliever.

Congratulations, you have officially given me a challenge Alfred.

Sincerely,

Arthur "Nutjob" Kirkland

P.S: I am perfectly sane thank you very much. Yes I can hear you mumbling to yourself, even when you think I can't hear you in the closet. Tomorrow I will answer any questions you have about me. Unless you want to e-mail them to me ahead of time.

Alfred couldn't help but laugh as he read it, this was officially the weirdest teacher in the history of educations. But, he didn't mind anymore. He enjoyed having the psycho as his teacher. It made things interesting.

He took his laptop, stuffing it in his bag so he would be able to answer back when they got to the library. But then, there was a crash. He jumped about four feet in the air and slung his backpack over his shoulder, eyes narrowing in concentration to hear what else was going on.

"…I-I'm r-really sorry…" a voice trembled, Matt's, "I wasn't l-looking where I-I was g-going…"

"Can't you do something right?!" another voice snapped, Francis, "For fuck's sake boy speak up! I can't hear you when you can't get your goddamn voice above a fucking whisper!" The grip on his backpack strap tightened and he clenched his jaw, no one messed with his brother. Heading to the source of the argument as fast as he could, he struggled to keep his anger in.

"I-I said I was sorry!" Matthew squeaked, trying to speak a little louder, "I-I didn't mean to-!"

Then there was the sound of a slap, the last straw for the American. "You can't even get a sentence out! Are you that stupid?!"

"BACK THE FUCK OFF!" Alfred yelled, running into the room and standing in front of his cowering brother, "You of all people have no right to call him stupid! If you had half of his intelligence you'd be a genius! But instead you have the intelligence of a piece of shit!" He knew he was probably digging his own grave, but he just hoped this would distract Francis' attention from Matt.

The Frenchman glared at him, balling his hands into right fists as he rested his raised arm to his side. His once handsome face was now coated in grease and grime, a beard building on his chin, his blonde hair was limp and greasy where it looked more brown, and his shirt was barely buttoned all the way. Though he hadn't gained weight he looked like a walking corpse. "Don't talk to me like that you bastard," he hissed at him, "I am your father, the owner of this house, and I don't need a whiny bitch like you critiquing me!"

Alfred growled and helped the trembling Canadian up. "We were going to the library anyways, sorry for being an inconvenience," he mumbled with a glare, "I already took the trash out. And did all the rest of the shit in this house you're too lazy to do for yourself." His father's eyes darkened and he took a step towards him.

"What did you just say to me boy?"

"I'm going to the library!" he snapped, picking Matthew up and his bag, "Goodbye bastard!" Before the situation could get any worse he ran out of the room, down the hall, and out the door. His feet pounded against the pavement, not bothering to even try to look back. He heard the familiar smashes of bottles and he didn't want to know what was going on.

He didn't stop running until his legs ached, his breath came in quick gasps, and he couldn't feel his lungs anymore. "Alfred…" Matthew whispered, surprising the American, "I can walk just fine. Don't worry about me. Put me down please…"

He looked down and his face flushed slightly, embarrassed he had forgotten that his brother was still conscious. "S-sorry!" he set him down on his feet while felling to his knees, "A-adrenaline… it does things to you… I-I need to rest…" He really tried to hide most of his exhaustion from Matt, not wanting to scare him anymore than he already was.

"Alfie…" the Canadian knelt down beside him, "I know how tired you are. You ran a long way, you can barely breathe. Just let me carry you the rest of the way. Please?"

Alfred looked up, still breathing heavily. Worry was reflected in those violet eyes, and he broke. "Oh… if you really think I need it. But I don't want you falling over and getting hurt. Okay?"

Matthew nodded immediately and picked his brother up, cradling him in his arms. "To the library?" he asked quietly with a small smile.

All the American managed to give was a slight nod before his world went black.

~TIME SKIP~

Arthur was still at school when he got a reply back from Alfred. He smiled and clicked it open.

Jones, Alfred

[IamThe1Hero ]

5:34 (1 minute ago)

Well here are my questions then dude.

1\. Why do you teach "troubled" kids?

2\. How sane are you exactly? 'cause I still have my doubts.

3\. Do you have family that lives close?

4\. Do you have a bae? (I doubt it dude, teachers don't get much)

5\. What is a Brit doing in America?

6\. Do you just live at school or do you have a somewhat life?

7\. You are such a smartass, why did you go into the teaching field if you're like that?

8\. Can you really get me through high school?

9\. Will you keep the whole thing about my mom to yourself?

10\. And finally, why do you have a peace of paper taped to an empty wall?

You can tell me the answers in person tomorrow.

Arthur found himself flinching at the student's horrid grammar and realized how hard teaching this boy really would be. Especially if spellcheck can't save him. But just maybe if he played his cards right he could get the teenager through his senior year. He knew what the American enjoyed, and what his passions were. If he managed to make an individualized learning plan then maybe that could work.

Now to prepare his answers to the question.

~THE NEXT DAY~

"You're late," Arthur said dryly, not even looking up to see Alfred attempt to sneak into the classroom. The student's mouth drew into a pout, closing the door with his foot.

"How do you do that?! I was super quiet and stuff! Like ninja material quiet!" he added, a slight whine in his voice. In his opinion, he did pretty well getting into the room without the hinges of the door squeaking like a siren screaming, "I AM ENTERING THIS ROOM. BE WARNED."

Mr. Kirkland rolled his eyes and turned away from his computer to give a dry glance at the teen. "I'm not blind Mr. Jones, I am perfectly fine to see you coming in. Not to mention I can hear your heavy breathing from running here, your footsteps stomping like an elephants, and I noticed you weren't sitting in front of me when I took role," he yawned and leaned back in his chair, "Just sit down please."

He nodded and slipped into his seat, slumping a little. "Sorry, I was walking Mattie to school," he started to explain, "His is a few miles away so I had to rush over here the best I could. I really didn't mean to skip or anything like that!"

"Don't you have a car?" the Englishman asked, looking up from a piece of paper that had been laying on his desk, "You're old enough to have a driver's license. Do you have one of those?" It was a sincere question, and he was curious of the boy's answer. But in his mind, he had already guessed the truth by the almost ashamed expression on the student's face.

"Unfortunately no…" he sighed as though the truth added more weight on his shoulders, "My dad sold our only vehicle about five years back to get some more money in the bank." _'To buy beer,'_ a voice grumbled in the back of his head but he pushed it away immediately. "And I guess I never really thought about my license… I never had a chance to go out and get one. But right now I don't really need one since we don't even have a car. I'm focusing on other things anyway." Matt deserved to go to college more than him, he needed all the funds he could get to pay for anything a scholarship wouldn't cover.

"…" the Brit stood up, "Come on, we're going on a fieldtrip." Al blinked a few times, just watching Mr. Kirkland get his burgundy coat off of the brass hook that was nailed firmly into the wall.

"Wait what? Dude you can't just take me out of the school without like a permission slip or something!" he raised an eyebrow and watched the teacher slip his arms into the sleeves, "Where do you even plan on taking me anyway?" When Arthur simply ignored him and started typing on his computer, he got beyond mad. No one tried to overlook him without him wanting them to not pay attention! "Dude I'm talking to you! Come on psycho, you have two ears. They are parallel with those eyebrows of yours. You managed to hear me breathing yet you can't hear me talking to you right now?! ...SERIOUSLY?! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Yes Mr. Um I can hear you!" Mr. Kirkland snapped, glaring up at him with those piercing green eyes, "I just didn't want to deal with your whining! Now stop your yapping before I get a headache!"

"But-!"

"How about this!" he held his hand up, "If you shut up I'll tell you the answers to the questions you e-mailed me and any others you want to ask. Deal?"

Alfred crossed his arms, weighing his options. Continue being a whiny brat and miss the field trip not to mention not figure out who exactly this weirdo was.

"…deal."

To Be Continued… Maybe…


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred slipped into the front seat, hitting the hard foam with a thump. Mr. Kirkland's car was a black Kia Picanto, a rather small car that usually seated four and the back seats usually collapsed to make more trunk space. He glanced around at the interior and pushed his glasses up his nose, rather interested with how well done the design was. He was still examining every single detail when his teacher got behind the wheel and started the car.

"Like it?" he asked with a small smile adorning his lips. Al nodded vigorously, running his hand over the dashboard.

"I never would have thought a teacher would have a 2014 Kia Picanto!" he looked up and grinned, "This is the UK model! Did you have the steering wheel switched to the opposite side and shipped here? Or did you just go to an English car dealership? But seriously how much did you end up paying for this?!"

"£8,045," Arthur said simply, chuckling at the teen's enthusiasm. Alfred tilted his head to the side with an eyebrow raised.

"…pounds? OH!" he sat back in his seat, "That's like British money, right? Well how much is that in US dollars?" He didn't know the ratio and certainly wouldn't be able to convert it in his head.

"Oh about $12,237, give or take a few cents," the Brit shrugged, "When comparing pounds to American dollars you have a ratio of 1 pound to 1.52 dollars. So you wouldn't just take the amount of pounds and multiply it by 1.52- ALFRED FOSTER JONES I AM SPEAKING TO YOU!"

The last part was from the Englishman seeing that his student had fallen asleep in the middle of this rather educational opportunity. Taking one hand off the steering wheel he slapped the American upside the head rather hard. "OW!" Al whined, lifting his head and rubbing the now sore spot, "What the hell was that for you psycho?!"

"At least try to pay attention!" Mr. Kirkland hissed, glaring at the road, "I am trying to teach you something you'll need to learn in your future! What if you want to go to England but you don't know how much money will convert to your hotel bill in pounds?"

"Dude," Alfred yawned and stretched his legs out, "I can just Google it! Not to mention when would I ever want to go to England? Or anywhere in the UK for that matter. It's full of people who can't cook besides Gordon Ramses, who now lives here anyway, rain, cold, proper English, Shakespeare and his stuff that literally makes no sense whatsoever, snobby rich people, really awesome accents sure but I can't copy one if my life depended on it, strict teachers who will cane you for doing a problem wrong, and absolutely nothing interesting!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, _"What am I going to do with this boy?"_ he thought to himself with a heavy sigh. But at the last sentence, a smirk appeared on his face. "Actually there are some attractions you would find interesting," he looked over, "There's a whole museum for J.R.R. Tolkien in London."

That got the teen sitting straight up in his seat with eyes wide. "Seriously? A complete museum? All about J.R.R. Tolkien?! You're messing with me, right?" he asked, a little suspicious, but the Brit shook his head.

"I'm telling the truth. Oxford has its own Tolkien tour as well. And if you really love his works so much, I think I know what we can do for your social study unit. Do you know where 'The Lord of the Rings' and 'The Hobbit' was filmed and technically casted?"

Immediately the American nodded. "Yeah! New Zealand! There's the whole set where they filmed Hobbiton and you can stay there for a vacation and stuff! Sounds awesome doesn't it?! Dude if I could go there…" he sighed dreamily, "I want to see it so bad!"

"Well you can do a project on New Zealand," Mr. Kirkland glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, "It'll be a research project. I'll give you some freedom of how you want to do and such but we can discuss a grading rubric after the field trip. That sound okay?"

Alfred nodded again, beaming, but then his face twisted into confusion. "Wait…" he crossed his arms, "You're just trying to distract me now, aren't you?! You promised you would answer the questions dude, now talk." Arthur groaned and tapped his forehead on the steering wheel before sitting up.

"Fine! Okay I'll answer your stupid questions!" he grumbled something to himself that definitely wasn't very gentleman like, "Now just give me your first question and I'll try to answer it to the best of my abilities."

"Why do you teach 'troubled' kids?"

"…" this made the Brit sigh and slump in his seat as he continued to drive, "I absolutely hate this question… but I guess I'll tell you. I was in your position Mr. Jones. I couldn't stand being in a classroom because it bored me. I would cause some sort of chaos just to get out of there. From my first year of middle school to my junior year of high school I had gone through twenty different schools. That was about three per year if you do the math. But then I ended up in the same spot, a classroom all alone with one last chance. My teacher, his name was Mr. Wang if you wanted to know, had told me that I had to pass his class. I was a little nervous, I really wanted to at least get to my last year of high school before being kicked out and disappointing everyone. But somehow… he managed to convince me to learn things that I already though I knew. He was cheeky, a smartass definitely, and talked to me like he was my mom, but he took the time to learn about me. Now that I think about it…" he gave a small smile, "He did look like a woman. He had this long hair always tied back into a ponytail and when he got mad his voice would rise by ten octaves."

That made Alfred laugh, just thinking about it in his mind. An angry Chinese man yelling at the Brit in a nice suit yet had a ponytail. "So," he crossed his arms, "You teach people like me because you were me. You know what it's like to be stuck somewhere you can't concentrate. You want to learn but the material just doesn't click because it doesn't interest you."

With a smile, Mr. Kirkland nodded. "Yes. I ended up graduating a year early because of Mr. Wang. I want to give other students the chance I had. There aren't many people like me willing to teach people that can seem like they don't want to learn and can be proved as a hard student to work with. But unlike other people," his eyes flashed with some sort of dark grin, "I enjoy a challenge once in a while. It makes things… interesting."

The American stared at the Brit, eyes wide. There it was, the psycho side. Arthur was not a normal teacher. Yet… it didn't scare him at all. He liked it. That may sound weird but this different side, it intrigued him. Most teachers were vague, nothing really interesting to them. Yet somehow he got paired up with probably one of the most interesting people he would have ever met. He really did love it so far, who knows what could pop out of that nutjob's mouth?

"…well," he started, choosing his words carefully, "I can understand wanting some sort of competition… it makes sense. Anyway, can I ask the next question?"

Mr. Kirkland seemed to snap out of his own little world and looked up. "Oh? Y-yeah! Go right ahead! Maybe this won't be torture after all…" he added, mumbled more than anything else.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up a CD. It was obviously punk music but the person on the cover resembled the teacher to close to be a coincidence. "Is this what you were before being a teacher?"

Looking over, Arthur's eyes widened. "Put that back right this instance!" he yelled, "I don't want you scratching the disk! That is a collector's item you git! I SAID PUT IT DOWN NOT PLAY IT!" he screamed when Alfred took it out of the case and popped it into the player.

But it was too late now, the play button had been pressed. Suddenly the speakers blasted a rather terrifying mix of electric guitar, keyboard, and drums. Freaking out, the teacher reached over and turned down the volume in an attempt to mute it. Even so a voice came through the instrumental and Alfred's jaw dropped, eyes widening. "Dude… that's you?! You were like a legit punk rocker thingy?! You don't sound too bad either!"

In haste Mr. Kirkland turned the speakers off, grumbling to himself. "I said not to play it… and yes I was… that's all I shall say about it. Ask another question before I break your head into pieces for even touching that CD."

"How sane are you exactly? Like on a scale on 10 being, 'I'm the sanest person alive' to 1 being, 'they should have locked me up long ago'." This was probably one of Al's favorite questions, and he knew it would stir up some sort of argument. This guy had to be at least a 6. Or maybe 5. You could never really guess.

"Excuse me?" the Englishman snapped, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, "I am not insane! How many times do I have to explain this to you?! I am a perfectly rational, well-rounded, normal human being! What ever gave you the idea that I was mentally disturbed in any way?!"

"Well you do have posters of British punk bands covering a wall," Alfred stretched and put his hands back to rest his head on, "That isn't the normal decor for a teacher. Not to mention I see you mumbling to yourself when you're trying to find something. And I don't mean normal muttering under your breath, I'm talking about full out arguing with something that isn't there. No offense dude, but I think you need to get your grip back on reality."

Oh the Englishman's grip tightened alright, but on the steering wheel instead. His bangs now casted a dangerous shadow on his face, hiding his eyes for once. "We're here," he snapped, parking in the space closest to the doors. Alfred blinked a few times, confused what he had done to make his teacher so mad now. Was being insane really such a touchy subject? What was so wrong with asking simple questions? He was the one who promised to answer them! And now they were already at their destination and only three questions were answered. Great.

But without wanting to cause any more trouble, he got out of the car and shut the door with his foot. Arthur got out as well and locked the small vehicle before shoving the keys into the pocket of his grey slacks. "Follow me," he directed, his voice back to it's monotonous ringing, "I'll tell you why we're here when we get inside."'

The American gave a small nod, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Um I'm sorry if I insulted you…" he rocked awkwardly on his heels, "I really didn't mean to. I was just… not thinking."

"Well no surprise there," Mr. Kirkland smiled, showing he was joking, "And I guess it's all fine. My mental status is a… touchy subject. You are not the first person who has questioned my sanity. I should be used to it but…" he sighed, "I can't handle it sometimes. I have a different grasp of reality Mr. Um but that does not make me any less sane than you. Shall we go inside now?"

"Uh yeah!" he followed him tentatively, "…so where are we exactly?"

"This is just a little place two of my friends of mine runs," the Brit pushed the door open, "So you better be respectful. I won't hold either of them back from slapping you." Alfred now looked a little nervous for once, staying behind his teacher in case this friend was going to jump out at him.

The inside was rather… weird to say the least. An indoor racetrack was in one corner, some sort of large metal box was in another, and a snack bar. Definitely not the set up he was expecting. He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly and was about to open his mouth to speak when two heads popped up from behind a counter.

"I told-a you to fix that-a bell you bastard!" the taller one snapped with a rather thick Italian accent. He had dark brown hair with an odd thin curl coming out on the right side of his head. Chestnut eyes glared at the other person next to him.

"I-a thought I did!" the smaller one whined, his accent evident but much more high-pitched, "Maybe-a you messed It up when you-a keep slamming it close-a!" He looked similar to the other but the curl was on the opposite side of his head, his hair was a redder shade of brown, and his complexion was much paler. Not to mention his eyes were closed so who knew what color were they.

"Oh now you're-a trying to blame it all-a on me-?!"

"EXCUSE ME!" Mr. Kirkland yelled, making all three jump, including Alfred, "If you're done sorting through your sexual tensions can I please talk with at least one of you before school ends?" The two blinked a few times before finally the small one jumped over the counter and hug attacked the Brit.

"Arthur~! It's-a been a while!" he nuzzled the Englishman's chest, "You-a promised to stop by two-a weeks ago!"

"Feliciano I have a big schedule!" he waited for the Italian to let go of him, "And I came today, didn't I? That should be good enough for now. I could have forgotten about you entirely and then you would never ever know that I was even your friend anymore. Now wouldn't that be even worse than me being only a measly two weeks late?"

At the very thought itself, Feliciano started to tear up. "Oh-a don't do that! Please-a don't do that! I-a am sorry for complaining-a! I just wanted you to come-a more often!" he glanced at the older Italian, "Right Lovino?!"

Lovino huffed and crossed his arms tight over his chest. "Si," he mumbled, "Things-a do get rather bland without-a you coming by. We don't-a hear about your stupid mistakes-a often enough." That made Alfred snort in an attempt to stop himself from full-out laughing. The two turned towards him, as if just realizing he was even in the room.

"…you finally have a fidanzato?!" Feli squealed, clasping his hands together after clapping them a few times, "Congratulations-a Artie~! I never would have guessed-a you would have found-a someone! When are you going-a to ask-"

"Wait!" Alfred raised a hand, "What's a fidanzato? Is it some sort of food? 'Cause that's what it sounds like." Mr. Kirkland face was now bright red and he coughed into his fist awkwardly.

"Um… Alfred? I hate to break this to you but ah… a fidanzato is the Italian word for b-boyfriend… fiancé to be e-exact…" he scratched the back of his neck as his face turned from red to crimson, "He thinks that me and you are… you know… lovers… sexually active and such… understand now?" It took the American a few moments to finally connect the dots and when he did, his own face turned pink.

"Seriously dude?! No way! I'm just his student! You know… what's the Italian word for student?"

"Studente…" his teacher mumbled into his ear.

"Yeah that! I'm a studente! No fidie whatever you were calling me! He's just my teacher and he took me here on some weird fieldtrip thingy-" he turned towards the Brit, "Why are we here anyway?"

"You haven't figured it out, have you?" he smirked evilly, "Well that just makes this more enjoyable. You see I am not going to let you continue on without a driver's license. It's a right of passage for any teen your age and I want you to have that chance. This isn't a shop Alfred, this is a driver's ed school. I will help you get your permit at least, I promise you that much. So, are you going to try Mr. Um?"

At the mention of that horrid name, Al groaned. But the wheels in his head turned, he would be able to actually drive. If he could get a car then he would be able to drive Matt to school!

"…deal."

To Be Continued… Maybe…


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Annabelle here! As you know this is the fourth chapter and I really want some feedback from you guys! Should I continue or not? And which characters do you really want to see?**

"How on Earth did these two doofuses get their driver's licenses?!" Alfred's mind screamed as he tried to sit in the test car with Feliciano. This little lesson had actually started innocently enough, that is until he saw Romano driving the cars into their parking spots. He had never seen a car go in so many directions in a span of fifteen seconds. When Feli had asked him if he was ready, he had honestly thought about saying no way. But, he had forgotten about a certain teacher.

"Oh he's just desperate to get behind the steering wheel," Mr. Kirkland grasped his student's shoulders and smiled so sweetly it almost gave Al a cavity, "Especially with your driving expertise to guide him my dear friend. You wouldn't want to deny this innocent soul a chance to grow in his knowledge, would you?"

The young Italian blushed and shifted his weight from foot to foot, staring down at the tiled floor hide his embarrassed expression. "W-well-a when you put it like that I-a guess I could help him-a out still…" he smiled, "Let's go-a~!"

"I'm not payin'-a for injuries…" Lovino mumbled as he tossed his brother the keys with his other hand shoved into his pocket, "I want you to use-a your own insurance this time Arthur."

"Wait what injuries-"

Before the American knew what was happening, he was dragged into the test car and buckled in. He tried to calm down, thinking that maybe Feliciano would be a lot more coordinated and street safe than his older brother. But all of hopes of that were soon destroyed within the next five or six seconds. Then, the gas pedal was floored.

Alfred let out a not-so manly scream as he was jerked forward then pressed against his seat with his skin gluing tighter to his face. Light flashed and he saw his life going right in front of his eyes. That is if he didn't die here. One thing to learn about Italians, they can't drive. It's as if you were no longer in a ground vehicle, but a rocket when it's launching. It definitely brought that sickness that came on rollercoasters.

There was no way that was really driving. This had to be suicide! Where did this dude learn how to drive? Grand Theft Auto? Because that was pretty much how it was feeling like. Feli simply jerked the steering wheel around as if he was playing Mario Kart and that stupid grin stayed plastered onto his face. Maybe he really was Mario or Luigi, champions of bad and irresponsible driving.

"DUDE!" he shrieked, grasping the dashboard, "Aren't you goin' a little fast?! Isn't there speed limits in your country?!" Feliciano only laughed, his eyes still closed as always which concerned the teenager even more of how he was driving safely.

"Ve~! Of course-a there are!" he looked over at him, taking his hands off the steering wheel, "But we have-a rather high ones since people-a need to get places-"

"PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS BACK ON THE STEERING WHEEL AND KEEP YOUR EYES BACK ON THE DAMN ROAD FOR FUCKS SAKE!" he screamed and suddenly pushed the Italian into the back seat, "THAT'S IT! LIKE SHIT I'M LETTING YOU KILL ME IN A STUPID DRIVER'S LESSON!"

He released the pressure on the gas pedal, veered over before they crashed into the foam edge of the racetrack, and got them back to the right side of the makeshift road. His heart still pounded against his chest like a stereo with the bass turned up too loud, but it calmed down somewhat. As he parked inbetween the sloppily painted lines he heard a rather distinct laugh.

Sticking his head out the window, Alfred's jaw about hit the ground when seeing Mr. Kirkland sitting at the bar laughing so hard he was curled into a ball clutching his side. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING AT YOU BITCH?! I JUST ABOUT DIED!"

Between breaths and bursts of laughter the Brit managed to get a single sentence out. "Y-your-" gasp, "Face is-" gasp, "Absolutely-" gasp, "Priceless~!"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

The American jumped out of the car and stomped up to the still hysterically laughing teacher. "You psychotic, perverted, anti-social bastard! I could have died! And you're sitting there laughing your fucking ass off?!"

Yet the weirdness didn't even end there. In a blink of an eye, Arthur was sitting perfectly straight with a static expression on his delicate features. "I have no idea what you are talking about my young Padawan," he managed to say with a completely straight face.

That really sent Alfred sputtering and stuttering in absolute fury. He looked over at Lovino, who was behind the bar, for some sort of support but he had a small smile as well. "I'm-a sorry ragazzo but Artie is-a right. And I think I might-a just like you now."

"I have a rather good piece of news though," Mr. Kirkland smirked, "Now you know how to drive. Congratulations Mr. Um, and here I thought you would be difficult to learn."

"…THIS IS YOUR IDEA OF A DRIVER'S LESSON?!" he screamed, his voice rising by an octave. And judging by the grinning expressions of the adults in the room, he was definitely right.

~Le Time Skip~

"HOW DID I LOSE?!" Alfred whined, throwing his control down. This was his fifth time trying to get his written portion of his driving test done. Three weeks of coming here and trying not to get killed and finally he was getting close to achieving his license. Yet this still managed to get him.

Mr. Kirkland started to laugh, covering his mouth in an attempt to hide it. "Well not everyone passed right away Al! You need to try every once in a while!"

"Well this pencil can suck my dick!" Alfred huffed and threw his pencil onto the floor. Unfortunately, that just made everyone start laughing again. That included the Italian brothers. Arthur's face was flushed with pink, eyes closed making cute crinkles appear at the sides, and an infectious smiled. Alfred blinked a few times, that same beating starting up again from when he got in the car. Except this time it was for a very different reason. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was definitely there. Shaking his entire body until he couldn't breathe. What could it even be? There was magic inside of that teacher if he managed to create such a reaction from the teenager.

Before anyone could realize his real feelings, he started to laugh along. That was how he was used to solving things.

Hiding it with a smile.

~An Hour Later~

Alfred sipped his coffee, groaning from his exhaustion. After another tiresome hour or attempting to not get killed by speeding and reckless Italians, parallel parking, attempts to get his picture taken, and learning how to put gas into a car he was finally given a break. Now he sat across from the younger perky Italian, Feliciano. He sipped some sort of wine with a smile on his face. "So how did someone like you become friends with a weirdo like Mr. Kirkland?" he asked while also thinking, 'like you aren't weirdoes yourself though.'

Feli made that "ve" sound again and set his glass down before pressing his hands into his lap. "Actually-a I used to be absolutely terrified-a of Artie! My brother was too-a!"

"Whoa!" he held his hands up, coffee cup carefully balanced, "You were scared of him?! How can you be scared of a shrimp like him?! He's like the tiniest thing in the world! My bunny slippers are scarier than him!"

Feliciano tilted his head to the side, a confused expression on his face. "He didn't tell you-a? When he graduated a year-a early he ended up trying to-a be a cop!" This just about made Alfred spit out his coffee, A COP?! No way, that stuck-up brat could have never made it as a cop! All of the criminals would run him over and then tie him to a flagpole or something!

"You've gotta be kiddin' me. Right? How could Mr. Sixbrows be a freaking cop dude? He weighs like eighty pounds and would spend most of his time talking to the wall or something crazy like that," he suggested but the Italian shook his head.

"Nope-a. Arthur was actually the most feared-a and successful cop in his unit-a! Not a single criminal got past-a him! Pasta?" he added, holding up a plate of Alfredo, "It's fresh and-a the noodles are homemade from-a scratch~!" The American held himself back from flat out facepalming and politely passed.

"No thanks dude, now why were you personally scared of him? I mean you don't strike me as a hardcore criminal kind of person. Lovino maybe… but you are too nice and stuff. Come on why are you really scared of?"

"I'm not-a lying!" Feli whined, his shoulders drooping a little, "I was a bank robber with-a my brother! We were really-a good at it too! But then-a he ended up catching us! We were stuck-a in the jail with him for-a months! Do you have any idea-a how scary he can be when he-a has a riding crop and that-a evil smirk?!" With every word, his voice grew shriller. The poor guy really was terrified of him. And as Alfred slowly slipped into his own imagination, he realized how thrilling it would be…

_"So what shall it be you pig?" the Brit purred into his ear, lifting his chin up with his still gloved hand, "Admit to your crimes or we can continue with this little session~."_

_Alfred spat out some blood, huffing as he glared up at the policeman. "I'm not the criminal here I swear!" he hissed, "I'm innocent!" His wrists were locked together by handcuffs which were chained above his head and to the stone wall. He wore an orange jumpsuit with his prison number typed boldly. He was no longer a person, just a barcode._

_The cell wasn't too comforting of his fate either. The blood of various previous prisoners reeked in the small cold room, sweat created another horrid smell, claw marks from nails scratched the floor from people being dragged out, and pieces of orange jumpsuits. So horrid, so strong, yet it added to the heat of the moment._

_Arthur scowled, sitting on the American's legs with his leather crop in his left hand which had been currently free. The blue police uniform wrapped around his small body, showing an almost hourglass figure, his blonde locks peeked out from underneath his cap, and his bright eyes sparked with the hunger of some sort of animal. "Oh you know what you did," he snapped, slamming his back against the wall, "Now admit to all of it! Do you hear me you American pig?!"_

_Al let out the smallest cry of pain and panted, glancing up at the green-eyed man. "I am not the criminal here sir! You are!"_

_"How dare you accuse me?!" the policeman slapped him with the ridding crop, "What grounds do you trial me on?! What crimes have I committed bastard?!"_

_"The worst crime of all," Alfred kissed Arthur hard, straining against the handcuffs the best he could, "Stealing my heart…"_

'OKAY NOW OUT OF THE FANTISIES!' Al's mind shouted, interrupting everything going on in his thoughts. That, was more terrifying than anything he had ever witnessed in all of his life. Where had something like that even pop up? The only thing that weirdo was to him was a teacher, nothing more. Mr. Kirkland. But the beating was there again, the thump of his heart racing.

"You-a really like him," Feli suddenly said, "Don't you-a? I can see how-a you are trying to deny it but-a it's there. I saw your-a face flush earlier. And I know-a your heart is pounding. But I must warn-a you about Arthur." The Italian clasped his hands together and bit his lip. "He can-a be a difficult person to love, especially-a since you are a boy. I-a have a boyfriend myself, a nice-a German name Ludwig. It will be a struggle-a and you might want to just-a give up on a relationship with-a that person entirely. Don't give up on Arthur-a. He needs love in his life-a more than you know. But don't-a rush into anything. I'm guessing-a you don't know each other too well yet."

This made Alfred blink a few times in confusion, what on earth was Feliciano talking about? But before he could say anything, Lovino and Mr. Kirkland came back into the table area. "Congratulations, you are now an official LEGAL driver Mr. Jones. It was hard but you pushed through like a trooper. I'm proud."

The American grinned, pushing away his conversation with the younger brother of the Italians. "Thanks dude!" he took his license, "Wow! This is like totally awesome to extreme levels! Thank you so much dudes! All of you! I never even dreamed I would have one of these! It makes me feel powerful! Or at least something like that."

It had his name and everything, even his face proudly pasted on there. It really did make him feel like a real man now. He was for a few moments, a normal teen.

~Le Time Skip~

"Now where are we going?" Alfred whined, his hands covering his eyes, "It's already like 12:20 something!" It had been approximately two weeks since learning how to drive. Since then he had gone to the driving school every day after classes with Mr. Kirkland. Soon he really did feel prepared on the road and he was no longer scared. He knew he was in control and that really did make a difference. If you didn't feel like you could take a handle on certain things then you really aren't the right person for the job.

But suddenly, Mr. Kirkland had dragged his student to the car and ordered for him to keep his eyes covered until further notice. Of course he was excited for a surprise, but it was annoying when he had to wait so long. If you hadn't noticed yet, he didn't exactly know the meaning of the word, "patience."

"We are almost there!" the Brit snapped, his own patience running thin, "Now calm down! If you would stop distracting me then maybe we would already be there you ignorant git!"

Al huffed and tapped his foot, thinking that would help distract him. But it was just too hard, his mind always went back to thinking about where they could be going. It had to be close to the school, it had to be something awesome, it couldn't be another school, and it had to be connected to him earning his license. Right?

Finally after what seemed like forever, the car came to a stop and the engine was shut off completely. "You can open your door. But don't open your eyes just yet, got it? Now slowly get out of your seat…"

As Alfred tried to get out of the car Mr. Kirkland came around the vehicle and took his forearm gently. His face flushed a bright red but for now he ignored it. "A few more steps to the right… wait don't move. And open!"

He opened his eyes and about fell over. In front of him was a large black truck, and a nice one at that. "Wow! Dude are you serious?! This is a 2003 Toyota Tacoma! This is like a awesome truck! You've gotta be pullin' my leg, right?!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and crossed his arms with a huff. "It is not a trick! And really it's not a big deal, that truck is really old and I don't need it with my KIA. Why throw it away to be scrap metal when I can give it to someone who really needs it? It's full of gas but remember to watch that closely."

"Dude I passed the test, no need to lecture me on all of that crap," he gave a big grin though, "Seriously dude I really can't thank you enough! This means so much to me!"

"Graduate with only one B and I might just think about that being enough for payment," the Englishman mused with a smirk. Al blushed and hid behind the truck, pretending to still be examining it. "Listen, I don't want you to have to make yourself or your brother walk to school ever again. You boys deserve so much better. Maybe I can even meet your brother and father soon. Wouldn't that be just lovely?"

Just at the mention of that, he flinched. Arthur meeting his father? No way, that wouldn't end well for anyone. If the Brit was a "retired" policeman then no way would he approve of their living conditions. He might even try beating Francis to a pulp with a riding crop or an electric guitar. Either way it would be a risk he would rather avoid when he had the choice.

"U-uh sure…" he mumbled, staring down at the wheels of the beautiful truck, "Thank you again though. I will never forget this." No one besides his brother had taken the time to really try to do something nice for him. That is since his mother passed away. Something like this seemed like some sort of miracle that only happened in fairytales. But somehow this was really happening to someone like him.

Mr. Kirkland gave a smile and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "It's fine Alfred. I was glad to help. Now promise me you won't tell anyone, they might grow suspicious that you're my favorite student."

This finally put a grin on the American's face. That was the cocky Brit he knew and enjoyed in the classroom. He knew that the real work was soon going to get started, but it had to be fun. With Arthur Kirkland as his teacher he knew it was at least going to be some sort of interesting. He was going to earn the right to that truck, the only way he knew how.

"Deal!"

To Be Continued… Maybe…


	5. Chapter 5

"Dude none of this makes any sense!" Alfred whined, crossing his arms tight over his chest, "Who cares what x is? Honestly y should just move on and find someone else. I heard z is a rather lovely person." _'Z never managed to get herself a date, let her have a chance,' _his mind mumbled as it complained, _'face it y, x wants you as much as I want to find her if you know what I mean.'_ Mr. Kirkland sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alfred I am not talking about an x as in someone's ex-boyfriend or girlfriend. I am talking about the variable x," he picked the student's pencil back up and forced it into his hand, "Now try again. See the equation? Say it out loud so I know you are at least trying to pay attention." They had been on this worksheet for the past hour, and still they were struggling with the same concepts over and over again. The kid had no motivation at the moment.

The American huffed and sunk into his chair, twirling the pencil around his fingers and studying the work sheet in front of him. "It says x plus seventeen equals four x minus one times the quantity of five plus three," he read, sounding as bored as he felt. Math had always been his most difficult subject. Why would he ever have to know any of this in the future? Like he was going to be in a job interview and they would ask him to find x.

Arthur could tell what he was thinking and gave a small smile. "Yes this is relevant to your life," he pointed to the equation, "This will help you get through college. I know this is simple Algebra and you honestly should be in at least Geometry by now but that is not the problem. If you continue to think how useless all of this is of course you'll refuse to learn it. That is one of the reasons you struggle Mr. Um, you have a pessimistic attitude."

"Pessi what?"

"Pessimistic," the Brit gave a sigh, "It means you think of everything negatively. Like… do you watch those Marvel or DC superhero movies?"

Immediately Alfred nodded vigorously. "Yeah! Who doesn't?! Like Captain America has to be the coolest superhero EVER! All of those other heroes need some work, they rely on other things to be awesome. Well except Hulk but half of the time he can't even control himself-"

"I asked if you've seen Marvel or DC movies," Mr. Kirkland interrupted dryly, raising his hand to cut his off, "Not to give me a full blown debate on how your favorite superhero is all around amazing compared to any other person on the team. All I needed was a simple 'yes' or 'no.' Now judging by your answer you HAVE seen it. Now think about how Batman, okay?" Truly, he had never seen any of those movies much less read the comics. But Alfred didn't have to know that.

"Um who doesn't know Batman?" he grinned, "What does that have to do with pessimitie?"

"Pessimistic," Arthur corrected, "And a example of a pessimist would be Batman."

"…grumpy and always talks like he's at a funeral?"

"More or less. Now can we continue with solving the equation?" the Englishman sat back into his chair, "See the parentheses? That minus one would be a negative one and that means you take negative one times the quantity of five and positive three."

The American sighed and tried to do so, a negative turned a positive number into a negative from what he remember. "Okay now it's x plus seventeen equals four x minus five minus three. And then you take the two numbers on the uh… right side and put them together right?"

The teacher gave a nod, hiding his excitement for now. He was already starting to get everything together. "And um," Alfred sketched out his work, tongue out slightly in concentration, "That makes it x plus seventeen equals four x minus eight. Then you have to get rid of the x on one side so subtract x from both sides, right?" Another nod. "And that's seventeen equals three x minus eight. Then you have to subtract eight from both sides?" Nod. "That makes it nine equals three x. So divide both sides by three…"

He flung his hands into the air, a huge grin on his face. "Finally! That stupid x equals freaking three! That's right, right?!" he asked, glancing back at the Englishman as his smile widened, "Right?!"

"Well…" Mr. Kirkland gave a sigh, "You made a mistake…" Al's arms plopped to his sides and his jaw dropped as well, eyes widening. No. Fucking. Way. He couldn't have made a mistake! He had done all of the stuff he had been taught that day. Where did he go wrong?

Arthur picked the worksheet up with a small smirk on his face. "You forgot to write your name at the top!" he exclaimed, starting to laugh as Mr. Jones' face twisted in all sorts of directions.

"…YOU BASTARD!" the student yelled and snatched it away, "You gave me a freaking heart attack! Making me think I was going to have to do my work all over again! Next time you do that I'm gonna kick your smart ass so hard that dildo of yours you call a dick will pop right off!" To that the Brit rolled his eyes and let out a small chuckle.

"Sure you will," he lounged back in his chair, "Not unless you want to be kicked out of football tryouts."

"And for that matter-! Wait what?" Al turned to look at the teacher, "What football tryouts? I didn't try out for any football tryouts. You going crazy again?" Maybe the teacher was letting his psycho side show. But Arthur shook his head and rocked back and forth in his chair.

"I signed you up. Mr. Jones, you cannot expect to get through this year if you have no way to relieve your stress. It isn't good for you and I don't expect you to think that you won't stay in this school long. This is your place, and football might be one of the ways for you to make friends. Call it cliché or whatever but having at least one person at school you can talk to will really help. I had a friend in high school that sometimes helped me with my studies." Alfred moaned and rested his face on his desk, not caring that it was smudging his glasses. Yes he loved football, but would he really make the team? Everyone would know he wasn't in their class and figure out he needed extra help. Once that got out, he would have a bright red target on his back.

"Dude… I'm not sure about this-"

"Well it was either that or the chess club."

"…I'll get my physical."

~Le Time Skip To After School~

Alfred sat down on the bench, bad slung over his shoulder as he looked around. A few other guys were already there, chatting amongst themselves and stretching. Yet he wasn't so sure about leaving his spot, the others were so far ignoring him and he didn't mind. Or at least he was being ignored until someone walked up to him randomly and practically scared the daylights out of him.

"Hola amigo," the boy grinned and held his hand out, "Me llamo Antonio! Who are you?" For a few seconds, Alfred just stared up at him with a blank expression. The tall teen had dark tan skin, wavy yet almost curly deep brown hair, and green eyes that seemed to smile almost as much as the welcoming grin on his face.

"U-uh I'm Alfred," he stuttered, slowly taking the boy's hand. What kind of person would randomly walk up to someone, introduce themselves, and act like they were best buddies or something. Well apparently Antonio did, or at least he think that was his name.

"Alfred?" Antonio tapped his chin, "Alfred… hmm… you in a different grade team than me?"

"…do you mean ON a different grade team?" he corrected, trying not to be mean or anything. This guy had a really thick Spanish accent and he had the looks of one. But how could he be trying out for a sport like football? Sure he was a tall and decently built guy. Unfortunately though, he looked more like a runner or swimmer. Oh well, you never know.

"Oh yeah!" he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, "Sorry! English definite articles can be confusing. But then again Spanish must be confusing for you, isn't it? I mean there's so many types! You all learn the Mexican Spanish but I know the original Spanish, Spain! Weird right? But English has a lot of different types too, right? Like England's English and America's English must be REALLY different sometimes. Is that true?"

"U-uh yeah," Alfred started, how did this guy talk so much? He was bouncing with energy and his eyes were wide open. Scary.

"Really?" Antonio scratched his chin in though, "So that means I could be speaking English to someone from other than America but still an English speaking country and they still wouldn't know what I'm talking about! That's cool when you think about it? Don't you think?"

"Um sure but-"

"They warned me about that before transferring over here," he put his hands on his hips, "Americans are really confusing! Well you probably think my people are confusing. Oh dear," he rested a hand on his cheek, "Here I am babbling when you still haven't told me a single thing about yourself! How rude of me!" He chuckled and clasped his hands together. "Tell me!"

"U-uh," Alfred sat up straighter, "I'm Alfred Jones. I'm American. And I uh really want to be on the team. Not like I have much choice though. My teacher said I either go out for the team or be stuck with chess club all year." The Spaniard's face twisted into an almost grossed out expression.

"Chess? Oh you made a good choice amigo!" he went back to his smile, "My papa said he wanted me to go out for soccer but I can't kick a ball that looks like a vaca. That means cow by the way. I prefer kicking a football," he looked up in thought, "It is the American sport after all. Or is that baseball?" Al chuckled, maybe this guy wasn't too bad. A little dorky and talkative, but his smile was infectious.

"Baseball and football actually," he grinned, "You know a lot for someone who's new to America. Did you go and study anything you could on us?" he joked.

"Si!" Antonio nodded vigorously, "Whatever I could! I learned so much! Did you know there is this sacred ritual here they call YOLO?!" Alfred actually laughed as he stretched his leg out.

"Yeah I know about it. But it's stupid, never do it."

"Why not?"

"YODO."

To that Antonio tilted his head to the side with a raised eyebrow. "What is YODO? I haven't heard of that yet."

"You Only Die Once," the American said matter-of-factly with a grin on his face. First the new student's jaw dropped, green eyes widening.

"That's absolutely horrible!" he then pondered it for a few moments, stroking his chin in deep thought. "Yet it makes a little sense I guess. If you only live once then there is only one death." Alfred chuckled; it was almost like talking to a male, Spanish, Starfire from Teen Titans™. If this was the kind of friend Mr. Kirkland wanted to have, he didn't mind.

"Line up!" a harsh voice barked, tryouts were starting. The blonde hopped up from his seat and gave a smile at the brunette.

"Well I hope you do good!" he gave a thumbs up, "What do you even want to be on the team?"

As the Spaniard ran off he gave a wide grin. "Linebacker!"

"…wait what?"

But it was too late, they were in line and getting the practice gear. No way would Alfred ever have guessed a guy like that would go for being a linebacker. Sure he himself wouldn't mind being one, but that guy? He was too nice to ram into someone at full speed. Not to mention he still seemed a little scrawny to do any real damage to anyone. But again, you never know.

Al put the gear on, his contacts already in and glasses put away safely in his back pack. This would be his sixth year playing football, he had started at an extremely young age after all. Hopefully he would remember everything and not completely fail.

~Le Time Skip because Annabelle-Kirkland Knows Nothing About Football~

"See ya later Antonio!" Alfred yelled, waving to his new friend. The Spaniard turned around and grinned at him, waving vigorously back.

"Adios! See you tomorrow at practice quarterback!" he gave a thumbs up, "You'll do awesome amigo!" Yup, Alfred was now the quarterback surprisingly. He had expected something much more mainstream, maybe even water boy if he had done really bad. Yet, he hadn't completely failed. He was somewhat good according to the people around him. They had even gone over the fact he wasn't in any of their classes, not trying to figure him out.

And like he had guessed, Antonio definitely surprised him beyond all measures. The guy was nice sure, but he definitely had a scary side to him.

_"For heaven's sake Antonio don't let him get pass you!" the coach, Coach Edwards, yelled at the top of his lungs, "You're going to get crushed if you don't at least try to push him back!" The brunette hopped back to his feet and gave a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly._

_"Sorry sir!" he apologized sheepishly, but still cheerful, "I'll get him next time!" Al winced as he squatted back down, the poor guy was getting chewed out after every play. Why wasn't he at least trying to defend? They started again, but as the blonde caught the ball one of the guys got past Antonio and rammed Alfred right in the chest._

_He gasped in a gulp of air in an attempt to stop himself from blacking out or something bad like that. It was a scary thought definitely, but he somehow managed to stay calm. His back was now flat against the ground and he heard a little squeak._

_"Alfred!" Antonio yelped, kneeling down and literally shoving the other guy off of his friend, "Are you okay amigo? Hurt? Bleeding? I don't think he hit you to hard, did he?"_

_"Dude I'm fine," he sat up and grimaced, "Just a little sore that's all. Don't worry about me, get back into position." But as he looked up at the Spaniard, his heart just about stopped. In those green eyes was a fury he hadn't seen before, dangerous and almost flaming._

_"Si," he growled lowly, standing back up and yanking him to his feet, "Don't worry my amigo, no one is going to get to you this time. That I promise." And oh how he meant every word._

_This time, the minute that whistle blew Antonio rammed right into the other player unrealistically hard. He kept going, forcing the shorter person back yard by yard. But as he continued to advance, he started going right. So far that eventually he pushed the guy over the fence and into the stands. Coach Edwards blew his whistle. "HEY! We don't want to do that right now! Someone help him out!"_

_The Spaniard jogged back onto the side of the field, the coach gesturing to him. Even though he probably wasn't supposed to, Al listened anyway. "Why did you do that to that kid?"_

_"He hurt my amigo, I was simply escorting him off the field and onto the afterschool bus."_

_"And why's that?" Edwards asked, raising an eyebrow._

_"It was about time for him to go home."_

Alfred shivered at the memory, now he knew what exactly his new friend was capable of. It was definitely terrifying yet going to be a great help to the team. And as he learned from Antonio, he had gotten a 99 on protective instincts. Coincidence? No chance.

The American looked down at his phone, his twin should have been done with his own club by now. He hopped into his truck after unlocking it and drove down to the school as he hummed a little. But as he made his way out of the parking lot, he got a call.

"'ello?" he said once he answered it, "Alfred Jones speaking."

"How did it go?" a familiar British voice asked, "Tell me you got on the team. You did, didn't you? Make any friends? There had to be someone right?"

"Whoa dude slow down," Al laughed, "I'm still tired from all of that running and stuff. First, yes I did make the team. I'm quarterback. Second, I did in face make a friend to my own surprise. His name is Antonio and he's a transfer student from Spain. Yeah he's a little weird and talkative but he's an awesome linebacker."

"I'm going to pretend I know what a linebacker is," Arthur said dryly, knowing nothing about such a barbaric sport like football. He preferred a good game of cricket over an animalistic game any day. "Anyway I'm glad! I told you doing this would be good for you, didn't I? I e-mailed you some more math sheets to print out and work on. Have fun."

Rolling his eyes, the American turned the corner. "Yeah, yeah. I'll have them done by tomorrow. If I need help Mattie can do it for me. See ya at school psycho." Before the teacher could comment he hung up and turned the radio on.

For the rest of the ride, he sang along to whatever was playing at the moment. If he didn't know the song, he would make up the words or just hum. Finally he pulled into the parking lot of Matthew's school.

It was a rather prestigious school; the younger twin (by six minutes) had gotten a scholarship about three years back. It had the uniforms, technology, and whatever smart people needed. Alfred of course, was too dumb according to all of the tests.

As he hopped out of the truck, looking around for his brother, he heard a faint conversation going on. Frowning he crept closer to the edge of the building, where the sound was the strongest. There were two voices from what he could hear at the moment, but all he could make out was indistinct mumbling.

"…you know how it goes," a voice purred as Alfred got into hearing range, "I said for you to be z'ere at z'ree and I meant it. You should know better Mattie."

"I-I forgot," the Canadian's voice whispered, making Al's eyes widen, "I'm r-really sorry for that. I-it was my own m-mistake. I s-swear I'll be th-there on time tomorrow. I promise!" Peeking around the wall, the American finally got a full view of what was going on.

A boy with white hair, pale skin, and red eyes pinned the blonde to the wall. Matt trembled, his violet eyes glancing up in a fear only Francis had ever managed to evoke. His tie was crooked and his glasses didn't sit on his nose right. There was no blood, but he looked like he had got dressed in a hurry or something.

Smirking, the albino tilted his head and leaned down to kiss Matt's neck forcefully. "I know you vill. You vouldn't vant z'at pretty little picture floating around, vould you~?" The accent was German, and a harsh one at that. It managed to send a shiver through Al's own spine. What was going on?

"N-no sir," Matthew whimpered, trembling at the contact on his tender skin, "P-please Gilbert… my brother should be here any minute. C-can I go?" Letting go, Gilbert sighed and rubbed the now bruising hickey's going along the silky skin.

"Alright if you must, but show up tomorrow or else I might have to stretch our agreement. Somez'ing like taking you out of class to make up for missed sessions, right?" he asked, the German accent making his voice run soft yet strict.

"P-please don't!" Matt begged, his eyes widening at the very thought. But all the teen did was wave him off.

"Go run off to your big broz'er. I don't need you anymore."

That was the moment where everything clicked for Alfred. His brother was in a serious situation. Some picture, one that Matthew didn't want to be shown, was being held as blackmail. That meant that every day after school he wasn't going to a club at all, but to see that other student.

Every day, without Al even knowing, his twin was being raped.

To Be Continue… Maybe…


	6. Chapter 6

**GUYS I REALLY AM SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK. WITH SCHOOL EVERYTHING SLIPPED FROM MY MIND AND I FEEL SO GUILTY. SLAP ME ALL YOU WANT. PLEASE TRY TO TELL ME WHAT YOU GUYS ARE LOOKING FOR BECAUSE REALLY THAT MATTERS TO ME.**

Alfred found his breath caught in his throat and he couldn't comprehend anything going on around him. This was way too much for him to handle all at once and process what to do. This was his brother, the one he had told to trust him with anything at all. To come to him when he had a problem no matter what it was. To talk to him when he was unsure of what to do. To not be afraid to use him as a crutch when he needed it. To share everything with him and tell him things that would be difficult to understand.

It was as if Matthew had thrown all of that away. Giving up on trusting Alfred with helping him through high school. But really, was it not Matt's fault at all? Was it Al's for being blind to the reality of what was going on?

He would have continued thinking if it wasn't for seeing the German teen, Gilbert was what Mattie had called him, walked off and let the Canadian start to go towards Alfred's hiding place.

"Shit!" the American cursed, sprinting back to his truck and hopping back into the driver's seat. He kicked his feet on top of the dashboard and grabbed his book to make it look like he had been simply waiting patiently. He even whistled a bit with the radio on to make himself less suspicious, or at least what he thought would be less suspicious.

Matthew knocked on the truck window, a small smile on his face. Al pretended to be startled and looked over, grinning back. Well at least both could mirror the walk of miles of fake smiles now. "Hey dude!" he unlocked the door, "How was newspaper club?"

For a flicker of a second, the younger twin had a look of fear on his features. Yet a second later it was gone, back to the normal shy look. "Well we did a story on the volleyball team's star player being knocked out. Apparently she got a concussion from hitting the tiled floor too hard. The school is sewing the janitors and stuff."

Nodding as he watched the Canadian buckle up, he hid the churning emotions inside of his stomach. If he hadn't known the truth, he would have found nothing suspicious with what his brother had said. Yet it disturbed him at the thought of how many times he had been lied to, and how easily Matt managed to do it. As if it was just an automatic trigger in his brain. The person he had been trying to protect so long,

Couldn't even tell him the truth.

~Le Time Skip~

When they came inside, Francis was actually in the living room for once. They jumped a bit and just watched him as he cleared off the coffee table. He had shaved, showered so his hair was once again blonde and full, got into a suit, and didn't even have a cigarette on him. He looked almost like the dad they had known before everything went wrong. Eyes sparkling blue, a smile on his lips, and the presence that made you feel at home.

He glanced up at them and gave a small grin, making them both about faint or pinch themselves. No way could this really be reality; it had to be a dream. "Bonjour," he stood up and smoothed out his slacks, "'urry up and get dressed into something nicer z'an z'at. We 'ave guest coming over soon and I would 'ate for you to be looked at as a dirty street rat." Alfred frowned, he didn't like how any of that sounded.

"What do you mean?" he crossed his arms, "What guest?" Francis turned back towards them as he put some more papers into the trash.

"Just a friend of mine and his sons, no big deal. Now z'at I z'ink about it one of z'em are your age. Z'e oz'er is two years older." That didn't settle well with the American still, his eyes narrowed a bit even. Why suddenly invite people over if it wasn't a big deal? Why would his dad drag his ass out of bed if it was just for a close friend and his sons? Something else was going on that his father was deliberately hiding from them, but how could he start to guess?

"I have some studying to get done," he tried, testing how important all this was, "I don't have time for this. I planned on going to the library for the rest of the night-"

He didn't get a syllable further before Francis spun around from cleaning the stove off and gave him an icy glare that would have made Elsa freeze. "Jou aren't going," he hissed dangerously, "Z'is is important. Would I be cleaning up your shit if it wasn't?"

"Oh MY shit?" Al snorted, "Says the guy who can't even be sober enough to get off his ass and put the beer bottle into the recycling bin!" Before he had comprehended just what was going on, the Frenchman had him by his collar and pinned up against the wall.

"Now listen 'ere bastard," his father snapped, glaring at him, "I am your fucking parent. I own z'is 'ouse, z'e water you drink, z'e clothes on you. Everyz'ing. So if you want to keep z'at 'ead of yours on your shoulders correctly you'll stop being a selfish brat towards me." It scared Alfred beyond what he had expected. The anger in those now cold blue eyes. The very blue that was in his own orbs. This… this was the monster he himself could be. When he was angry, did he look like that? All those times he had blown his temper in front of Mr. Kirkland… was this the fear he had inflicted in the teacher?

"…I understand," he choked out finally, not wanting to get Matthew in trouble because of his big mouth. The Frenchman gave a sharp nod before letting go, still giving him dirty glances.

"Good. Now I swear if you mess tonight up you'll regret it." With that he stomped off to go work on something else, leaving the twins alone. As soon as he knew the man was gone, his knees buckled.

Matt grabbed his arm, keeping him from falling to the floor. "A-Alfred! Come on it's fine! A few guests won't be a big d-deal… it'll be o-okay… right?" Looking over, Al calmed down slightly. He didn't want to cause any trouble for his brother, so he had to play along.

"Yeah… let's get ready…"

~Le Time Skip~

Alfred combed his hair, glancing at his reflection in the mirror slightly. He had never been one to care much for his appearance in an attempt to impress someone else, especially if it wasn't for him in the first place. His whole outfit just looked out of place if these guests had really known him. Black slacks, a white button up shirt, and an black tie. Everything wasn't right… he just felt uncomfortable.

Sighing he finished fixing his hair and put his glasses back on. Yup, "professional" and ready to be presented. Great.

Matthew poked his head into the bathroom, wearing a similar outfit. "P-papa's friend is here," he whispered, "A-and his sons…"

Al gave a slight nod before turning the sink off and drying his hands. "I'll be out there in a second I promise." Matt smiled slightly before walking back to the living room. That was another difference between the twins. Mattie was always a good kid, never question any order given to him. Alfred on the other hand wanted to question it. He was taught by his mother to question everything around him. Even if it was something simple like a teacher telling him that the sky was really blue. He had an argument ready most of the time. It was just how he saw everything.

He straightened his tie and headed down the hall, hearing a few voices. "I'm glad you could spare some time," Francis was saying, "We appreciate your visit."

"It really isn't a big deal," another voice answered, a deep German accent was evident, "Our schedule isn't z'at full at z'e moment." Al frowned and peeked around the corner, his jaw dropping when he saw their guests.

The first man he saw, the one he guessed was the old friend, looking like a giant or if Legolas had been a bodybuilder. He had to be at least 6 foot five, had long blonde hair that went maybe to his armpits, and terrifying pale blue eyes. Ones that sent shivers through the American's heart and maybe entire body. Something was making this guy seem like he should be guarding the crown jewels. All he needed was an earpiece and sunglasses.

Then there was one of the sons. He looked almost exactly like his father except shorter, less muscle, and short hair that was smoothed back at the top. But it's when Al saw the other son when he knew how horrid this night was going to be.

It was Gilbert.

No one else had the smirk, red eyes, and white hair. It had to be him! But he was taller than the blonde. Did that mean this albino was the older son? In college?! No way could such an idiotic jerk be intelligent enough to be attending college! But… Matt's school did have a college program. So maybe all of this really was logical.

"Ah Alfred," Francis grinned, "Come in and greet our guests. We've been waiting to see you." He swallowed hard and gave a small smile, just enough to convince them he was happy about them being here.

"H-hi everyone," he clasped his hands together behind his back, "I'm Alfred. And you all are…?"

"Call me Mr. Beilschmidt," the man said immediately, holding one of his huge hands out, "Nice to meet you Alfred." The American shook it, his poor hand almost getting crushed in the process. "This is my son Ludwig," he gestured towards the blonde, "He's around your age. And then there's Gilbert, my oldest." The white haired teen grinned and stuck his hand out towards Al.

"Gutentag Alfred!" he shook his hand in an awkward up and down motion, "Nice to meet ya!" Just touching the bastard's slimy pale skin… it made Alfred want to flip him onto his back. That Gilbert was going to pay eventually for even talking to Mattie, yet the process of doing so was easier said than done. How would he even confront the issue without revealing he had known about it?

Guess he had to wait.

He forced a smile onto his face. "Hello. I'm glad you could all make it." Well, most of them anyway. But he wasn't going to say that with Francis so close.

"Mr. Beilschmidt is the headmaster at Matthew's school Al," his father spoke up, his voice cheery, "Isn't that a coincidence?" Alfred felt his stomach drop to his feet, the fucking headmaster?! So that's how Matthew just so happened to be in the same school as those two! Francis is probably the one who begged for the Canadian to be let in, forgetting about him. It was a dirty trick, and it disgusted him. Someone using their own friend just so they could make sure their child would get the best education possible. Not to mention FORGETTING about their other child who also needed an education. What kind of person did that? Maybe one with a name that started with an F and ended with rancis.

"C-cool," Al stuttered out, gulping slightly. If he tried to rat Gilbert out, he could jeopardize everything for Mattie. Maybe it had been the whole reason for him to submit in the first place. Not that it was a good excuse, but he could understand in a sense.

"Why don't we all sit down and eat, oui?" the Frenchman grinned, clasping his hands together, "I hope you don't mind eating French food z'at much." The three shook their heads almost in sync, though Gilbert's was a lot more vigorous and energetic.

"Not at all," Mr. Beilschmidt headed to the table, following Francis with Ludwig closely behind.

Alfred was about to keep walking when Gilbert rammed his shoulder into his chest, knocking him back a few steps. "Watch out stupid American," he chuckled, his laugh making a "kesesese" sound. All it did was aggravate Al further, making him want to punch the albino's face in. But, he took a few deep breaths and simply followed behind Matthew.

They all sat down at the table, and it made Alfred feel horrible uncomfortable. The last time he had sat down at a table with so many people was at his mother's funeral, the dinner that had followed. He shivered but didn't say anything, keeping his gaze fixed on the wooden surface for now. Food was passed around, idle conversation made that he blocked out from his mind. But a few minutes into the meal, he heard something that made him just about jump out of his chair.

"Z'at boy of yours doesn't talk much, does he?" Mr. Beilschmidt commented, glancing at Al with an eyebrow raised, "He doesn't go to my school if I remember correctly. You said he vas in special placement at one of z'e public schools?" '_Just ignore it all Alfred…' _his mind told him as his hands balled into fists, '_They don't know anything. You're a smart kid.'_

"Ah yes," Francis sipped his drink, "Due to all of z'e grief from losing 'is mother it's been 'ard for 'im to adapt to z'is education. I'm not sure if 'e'll manage to go to college next year or not. Might be stuck in z'is grade for a few more years before he catches up wiz' everyone." Alfred's eye twitched, no longer wanting to take this shit from not only this "Headmaster" but his own father as well.

"Excuse me?" Al hissed, his voice a low growl, "I'm right here. Don't talk about how 'unintelligent' I am when I'm in the room."

"Anger issues as vell?" the German man said dryly, barely even glancing over the fact he had insulted the teen, "No wonder he had to be put in a classroom all by himself. He's probably been a danger to oz'er students. I'm not surprised you didn't recommend him for my school. Z'at poor might have a few loose bolts if he feels safe teaching someone like z'at." Oh fuck no. No one insulted Mr. Kirkland about his sanity, that was his job.

Alfred stood up and slammed his hands on top of the table, glaring at everyone with a fiery warning in his eyes. "What kind of bastards are you?!" his eyes narrowed, "I have a few rules of my own you dick. You can insult me, you can insult my intelligence, but you better not use me as an excuse to insult my teacher. If you had half of what he was, you'd be one of the nicest people of the universe. He's smarter than you, better than you, and deserves more than you. So you can leave this fucking house right now before I cave your face in."

"Alfred!" Francis yelled, standing up, "Do not talk to guests like that!"

"Guests?!" Al snorted, "I am your so-called son. Yet in an attempt to make yourself seem like your perfect little family is doing fine you try to dumb me down?! These aren't guests! They're parasites you're trying to dance for! Now who's unintelligent?!" The Frenchman gave him a deathly glare, looking like the old drunk from yesterday for a few seconds.

"If you can't be polite or apologize for your behavior, I suggest you leave this table," he sat back down, "Cool off before you hurt someone." The American knew what that translated into, "leave before I hurt you." And he planned on doing so much better than that.

"Oh I will do even better you asshat," he slammed his chair against the table before spinning around, "Go back to your sucking up! Have fun with your perfect little Mattie! Your one and only son apparently!" With that, he stomped off towards the door and flung it open so he could step out into the cold night. He kicked the door close behind him with his foot, almost breaking the frame in the process. Rain poured down, almost soaking him immediately. He felt like he was going to punch something, if he didn't he would faint.

Not sure what to do with himself, he grabbed at his hair and his knees buckled. Like he had anywhere else to go, he was alone out here. But it was better than going back out there and facing humiliation. All he did was start to walk, not caring where he ended up.

~Meanwhile~

Arthur sighed as he drove down the road, tired from working a late night shift at his second job. It wasn't as if being a teacher paid well, of course he needed to do more than one occupation. Money wasn't just something that could pop out of nowhere. He had to strive to get it. Because of where he was from people expected some sort of abnormally amazing person that could do anything with a flick of his wrist.

Spoiler Alert: he couldn't.

But as he stopped at a red light and turned on his windshield wipers, he saw a figure stropping down the sidewalk. It was a big fella by the looks of him and he was definitely not in a good mood. But as Arthur's eyes narrowed he could see the familiar hairstyle and glasses. It was Alfred.

His eyes widened immediately and he pulled over, staring at the student just to make sure his observation was correct. Yup, no one else could be that big and have that obnoxious blond hair. The cowlick made him know it was the American teenager. He rolled down his window and stuck his head out, "ALFRED JONES!"

Al had been walking down the street, trying to clear his head for now. Lights flashed by him from car tails, water lapped at his feet from the rain, and his glasses were dotted with droplets. But suddenly, someone had shouted his name. He jumped and turned towards where the yelling had come from, seeing the small black Kia. "Mr. Kirkland?!"

"Who else?!" the Brit rolled his eyes, "Santa? What the bloody hell are you doing out there?! It's storming for heaven's sake!"

"Well I-"

"Oh forget the excuses!" Mr. Kirkland unlocked the doors, "Come on! Get in the car!"

"What?!"

"Do you really think I'm going to let you continue to walking out here to wallow in self pity?! Get in the car before you get soaked to the bone!" Alfred just stared at the teacher for a while, not sure if he should run for it or simply refuse one again. But then again, he was cold and wet. Nothing would hurt about letting Arthur drive him home. Or maybe a fast food place, he was starving.

He slowly approached the car as the Englishman set a towel on the seat, just to make sure Al wouldn't soak everything. He opened the door and slid inside, shivering a bit due to the sudden change in temperature.

"Dear God!" Mr. Kirkland was appalled as he locked the door, "How long have you been walking out there? Are you trying to get yourself pneumonia?!" The boy was drenched, the white formal shirt pressed against his chest to outline every muscle on his body. His shoes would probably just let out a fountain of water if he turned them upside down.

"Dude it's a long story-"

"That we will have time for!" Arthur snapped, cutting him off, "I'm taking you to my house. No way can you continue to wander around here."

"But-"

"Nope. You're stuck with me Mr. Um whether you like it or not. Got it?" Al searched his mind, thinking about everything. If he decided to go along with everything he would go to the Brit's house, maybe even learn more about him. Those random fantasies that popped in his mind really scared him and maybe a visit would try to release them all.

"…got it."

To Be Continued… Maybe…


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred shivered violently as he managed to get out of the car, his cold clothes sticking to his body. He coughed hard, freezing due to the horrible wind blowing on him as well. Mr. Kirkland tsked and led the teenager down the driveway, to the porch. "You're lucky I found you young man," he scolded as he fished his keys out of his pocket, "It's too cold to be out when it's also pouring! We were supposed to get hail as well! Judging by the coughing," he quickly felt his forehead, "And burning body heat you're probably sick. What if you had gotten a horrid fever and passed out on the sidewalk? Someone could have run you over and like that you would have died! You prat!"

The house was three stories, a basement, a main floor, and a second floor. The outside was a solid oak brown wood, the door pitch black, the windows as clear as crystal, and the garden still looked beautiful in the pouring rain.

"Would n-" Al started to argue, but was cut off by a coughing fit. This concerned Arthur even further as he ushered the American into his house.

"You can't even talk back you're so ill," he closed the door and pointed to a door up the stairs, "Go to the bathroom and strip. I'll get you in a nice warm bath. And don't even try to protest Mr. Jones! This is for your own good!" In fact, Alfred was about to refuse. Stripping in front of the Brit?! As in absolutely naked. Where he would see his manhood. No way! But he didn't have much of a choice, did he?

He hobbled up the stairs and went into the bathroom, sniffling. It wasn't a luxurious one, but it was pretty enough. A teacher having a two story house was a surprise in itself. Porcelain tub, tiled floors, crystal mirror, and a variety of shampoos and conditioners. That surprised him as he narrowed his eyes at them, but he then looked over at a shelf line with small bottles and razors.

"Eyebrow Remover"

"Perfect Eyebrows"

"Compliment Your Eyes"

"No More Ugly"

"Eyebrow Pride"

About 75% of them dealt with getting rid of and/or fixing eyebrows. Sure Arthur's thick and untamable ones weren't what most would describe as perfect but was he really that insecure about it? They looked like furry caterpillars, but he had seen much worse. And when he really thought about it… the eyebrows made him look a little cute even. Al reached for one when, "I said for you to get undressed."

He let out a hoarse scream, jumping four feet into the air, and spun around to see who had spoken. Mr. Kirkland leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, an unimpressed look on his delicate features. "I'll start the water and you strip," he went over to the tub, "If you need help then just ask. Don't be so embarrassed just because you have to ask your teacher to get you undressed."

The American's face flushed a dark red and he fumbled to get his tie off first. His fingers shook from the coldness still numbing them, but he managed to undo the (what seemed to be impossible) knot. He sighed, proud of himself before he realized he now had to undo the tiny buttons of his shirt. His slipped his sopping dress jacked off and started to attempt the smaller buttons. Usually he already had plenty of trouble due to what Matt sometimes called "sausage fingers". Just thinking about the Canadian made him flinch. The last thing he said before leaving the table… about him no longer being a son of Francis. In his anger he had declined his own brother as well.

Arthur turned the water on, testing the temperature to see if it was warm enough or too hot for anyone to handle. He glanced over at his student, seeing tears building in the blonde's blue eyes. _'You can question him later Artie,'_ Mr. Wang's voice rang in his head, almost like he was there guiding him, _'Worry about his health now. He needs you more than ever.'_

He swallowed the lump in his throat down, shaking a bit. He came over and knelt down in front of Alfred. "Need some help love?" he asked quietly, not wanting to increase the boy's headache as well.

Being called love startled Al a bit, but he didn't let it show for now. He simply gave a slow nod, his face flushing underneath his red cheeks from fever. Maybe being sick had a few advantages. His cold and clammy skin prickled as he felt Arthur's warm fingers touch his chest, undoing the buttons.

The Briton bit his lip in concentration and soon he slipped Alfred's arms out of the shirt sleeves. Though this part would definitely be much more awkward, he unbuttoned the American's pants and unzipped them as well. Squeezing his eyes tight as his own face flushed he slid the slacks down the teen's legs. "I really do apologize for this," he opened an eye and slipped his finger into Al's boxers, "Just tell me if you are feeling too uncomfortable."

Honestly, Alfred had passed the uncomfortable stage the moment Arthur touched him. But like he could say that, not when he was too tired to stand up and walk to the bathtub. Instead he gave a nod, eyes closing out of exhaustion. Taking a deep breath Mr. Kirkland pulled his boxers down.

Two thoughts ran through his mind.

The first one, _"Now to get him into the tub!"_

Second one, _"OH MY GOD HIS LENGTH MIGHT BE BIGGER THAN MINE."_

He pushed away the second thought, his face flushing quite a bit. He slung the American's arm over his shoulder and hefted him to his feet, grunting a little. "Damn you're heavy," he huffed, dragging him over to the now filled tub. He shut the water off and tried to slowly set Alfred into the tub. "There you go," he sighed as he took Al's glasses away as well, "Use whatever shampoo or conditioner you want. I'll get dinner started, some hot chocolate, medicine, and pyjamas* to change into."

To show he was listening, the teenager gave a small nod. "Really I'm fine…" he mumbled quietly, but Arthur scoffed.

"Porkies!" he snapped.

"W-what..?"

"Oh sorry. Forgot you were American. Porkies is a British slang term for lies. Please tell me you know what poppycock means at least."

"…unbelievable?"

"Correct. So you saying you are 'fine' when you can't even get your arse over to the tub is POPPYCOCK!" He pronounced the last word with his accent in full force, shouting it almost. Al sunk into the tub as the Brit's voice rose, a little scared of him now. Well even more than normal he supposed.

"Okay…" he coughed hard, "Whatever you say mom…" Mr. Kirkland scowled, placing his hands on his hips.

"If you weren't sick I just might have thrown a shoe at you for saying something like that to me!" he snapped, eyes narrowing, "Move from that tub and so help me I'll…"

"Curse me with seeing your imaginary friends?" he suggested, eyes closed. He didn't hear anything for a few seconds but suddenly, something slapped him upside the head. "OW!"

"You deserved it," Artie said dryly, wiping his hand off on a towel, "Call if you need any help." With that he left the bathroom and headed back downstairs, smiling to himself. Al really was a prat… a git as well… but he was an adorable one. Almost like his last boyfriend-

No. His smile disappeared almost instantly. He couldn't think about that. It was all in the past… he couldn't dig it up all over again. But they… they were so similar. The smile that made his face flush, the laugh that made him smile, the sparkling eyes, and the hands that his fit into so perfectly…

But it was impossible now. He had to get his head out of the clouds, Alfred was his student. Nothing more. Their relationship was entirely professional.

_'Then why did you pick him up?' _a voice whispered, Flying Mint Bunny. Or that's what he called the rabbit. It was one of his special friends, the ones only he saw. _'If he is just a student to you, then why do you care for him so much?' _He huffed, getting a stainless steel pot and filling it with water.

"I am his teacher!" he waited until it was half way full before shutting the water off and placing the pot on the stove, "Any teacher wouldn't let their student walk in the street when it's pouring down rain! I'm not some heartless bastard!" That was insanity, just letting Al freeze to death out there. Of course he had to help him! And karma may kick him in the pants if he didn't do so.

_'If it was any other student you had then you would have taken them back to their own house,' _Flying Mint Bunny mused, a smile on her lips, _'You would have never offered your home to them. Even if they had been sick. Admit it Artie, Alfred is much more to you then why you keep saying he is. You love him.'_

"NO!" he slammed his palms onto the countertop, "I don't! Love has forgotten me long ago! You should know that!" He trembled, his knees growing weak. "He… he abandoned me… giving me to that horrid hospital… just because I admitted I saw things… and he was right! Who would want to date a schizophrenic psychopath, huh?! Even if I did love him he would never like me back! I will NEVER be loved again! Do you hear me?! I AM A LOST CAUSE!" He fell to his knees, resting his forehead on the counter as tears slid down his cheeks.

"I'm insane! A lunatic! No longer fit to be around human beings! I had to lie to get out of those retched hospitals! If it wasn't for Yao I would still be there! I… I said I couldn't see you anymore! That I couldn't hear the voices pounding inside of my head!" he tangled his fingers into his blonde hair, "But I do! It terrorizes me every second of the day! Except…" he hiccupped, crying too much, "A-Alfred made it go away! That damn American made it all go away! For six hours I get relief! And yet the moment the year ends it all goes back to normal!"

He was screaming now, slamming his fist repeatedly onto the marble counter. "So tell me what I do one he leaves, huh?! Just go back to my normal life?! Pretending to have my sanity?!" he looked up at the small bunny, tears streaming down his cheeks as he chuckled sarcastically, "Oh won't that be just jolly?! Just leave me alone! Let me live a life of peace! If he knew… it could get out to the whole school! I blow this chance for him!" He buried his face into his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn't handle it, knowing with one little mistake he could ruin everything for the American.

Love really had abandoned him.

~Alfred's POV~

Al stared up at the ceiling, the bathroom door shut. He had heard the yelling and even though he couldn't make any sense of it… he had a feeling it wasn't something good. Maybe the Brit was talking on the phone or something, he didn't have to worry about it.

Right?

Sighing he ran his fingers through his hair, coughing a bit. He still felt like shit from that goddamned fever, his brain pounding from a horrid headache to add to the wonderful mix. He felt like someone had split his head open with an axe, like that Greek Mythology story. With Hephaestus and Zeus! Except he didn't have some smartass child from this headache.

He groaned as his throat seemed to increase in its swelling. Maybe Mr. Kirkland's formula or medicine would work. He wasn't one to get sick a lot, it was actually quite rare now that he thought about it. A cold maybe, the flu was a once in a lifetime type of deal for him, a virus no way, and a disease was impossible. His mother had always joked he had an unstoppable immune system. Yet now he was stuck at Arthur's house because of his horrible condition.

He was trying to think of how someone like him could manage to suck so quickly when suddenly, there was a crash.

First he let out a scream before he managed to catapult out of the tub and sprinted out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. "WHAT HAPPENED?!" he yelled, eyes wide.

Arthur was on the ground, a few pans lying next to him. The Briton hauled himself to his feet, panting more out of surprise than actual exhaustion. "I spilled some of the hot chocolate… and slipped on it," he gave a reassuring smile, "But I'm fine." Then he looked down, raising an eyebrow. "You're not wearing anything…" he mumbled awkwardly, "And you are out of the tub. When I told you specifically to not do that."

He blushed and tried to cover his length, shivering. "W-well I-" he coughed hard, his legs shaking now. _'Great timing stupid sickness, make me look like a complete idiot.'_

Arthur sighed and led the teen back up the stairs and into the tub, scolding him the entire way there. "I swear you never seem to listen to me, can't you at least try to not be such a stubborn twat?" he gave his ear a tug, "I'm pretty sure this thing works, correct? So why can't you hear my orders?!"

Not answering, Alfred let himself be ridiculed for his "wrongdoings." In his opinion it really didn't need to be a big deal, but with Mr. Kirkland a simple grammatical error could be the world's end. "Next time, wrap a towel around your waist," he said dryly, setting one out for the dirty blonde. Finally he then left the American all alone.

"Great job hero…" he sighed, "Can't even rescue the damsel without making a complete fool out of yourself. Now he thinks of you as a complete idiot… a naked one at that." He sunk low into the bathwater, closing his eyes so he could escape into his fantasies once again.

_"A-Alfred…" Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, "Please believe me. I really do love you! More than anything in the world! More than proper grammar! More than trying to sound like I'm smart!" Al kissed the Brit softly, a smile on his lips._

_"I love you even more. Through all of those insecurities, I see a beauty blooming, waiting to reach the sun. You are something most people never get to see Artie, a rare light that comes like a comet. It's only there for a few seconds before disappearing. A few would say that there's no point, but that moment is something unforgettable. We can be God's in this cruel world. Just join me."_

_Artie's green eyes widened, gazing at him with awe and respect. "B-but why me?" he looked away, lips pursed in a tight line, "I'm not worth it. Who would want to be with someone like me?" Alfred carefully took his chin, lifting it up so he could stare into the beautiful emeralds._

_"I want to be with someone like you. Because to me…" he kissed him again, biting his lip a little more forcefully, "You are everything. There is no one who will ever be as perfect as you."_

_"Oh Alfie!" Arthur's warm hands cupped his cheeks, "You mean it? You really do love me as much as I love you?"_

_"Yes my darling. This is true love." He ran his hand down the shorter blonde's back, slowly letting his hand creep up his shirt. Artie gasped, his back arching so it would conform to his palm._

_"Oh Alfred… Alfred…"_

"ALFRED!"

Al about jumped before he opened his eyes and saw Arthur standing at the doorframe, looking rather annoyed. "Are you deaf?!" he threw a pair of sweats and a British flag t-shirt, "There are your pyjamas. Now get dressed and meet me downstairs. Got it?"

The American nodded vigorously, shaken up by the dream he had been having. That was beyond one of the weirdest fantasies yet. And it all seemed so real that time, like he was actually kissing him. He managed to get out of the tub, coughing only once, and got dressed. It was easy enough, not taking him long. There was a pair of white briefs that honestly were a little tight around his certain area. Who knew that he would have a bigger dick than his teacher? Anyway that wasn't the point. He was just glad he didn't have any problems with the shirt and pants. Of course he was a little annoyed about the flag, but he kept his mouth shut. Then he went downstairs, jumping onto the couch and cuddling underneath a stray blanket he had found.

Arthur came out with cups of hot chocolate and bowls of spaghetti. He set the mugs and bowls down before turning towards him. "Something's been bothering you Mr. Um, please can you tell me what?" he asked, softly just in case being too loud would make him tenser. "I understand if it's a touchy subject but I can't stand it when you look so depressed. Something had to cause you to run out of there."

He knew that the American was hiding something, there had to be more. This long story might just lead to a new discovery he if truly played his cards right. He needed to know if Alfred really was safe wherever he was now, if he was in a stable home where he could grow up happy. That's all any child really wanted on the inside. A little bit of love to brighten up the day.

Al glanced at the floor, coughing a little. "…if I tell you then will you tell me why you were screaming while I took a bath..?" he asked hoarsely, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.

The Brit froze and swallowed hard, shaking quite a bit. Little did he know that a single promise like this would make this night a lot harder than he had originally expected.

"…deal Mr. Jones."

To Be Continued…


	8. Chapter 8

Mr. Kirkland set two pills in Alfred's hand, smile now gone. "Take these, it'll bring your fever down and get rid of your headache." His mind was a jumble of everything, trying to sort out just what he would say to the teenager. How could he explain the deal without scaring the student away or completely breaking down mentally? The simple answer,

He couldn't.

He sat down on the loveseat that rested adjacent to the couch Al laid on. He didn't look as bad as before that was obvious, but his cheeks were flushed with fever and he shivered even though sweat beaded down his forehead. Arthur's heart ached in sympathy for the poor teen, a cold like that could really give a hit to whoever had it at the moment. Luckily Artie rarely got sick from the insane amount of vitamins he took so this meant he would most likely not get whatever the American had.

He poked at his spaghetti, twirling it around his fork as his appetite rapidly disappeared. But being a teacher and positive influence he knew he couldn't skip a meal in front of Al. _Well, shove it all down and puke it out if you need to. _He brought a forkful to his mouth and raised an eyebrow at Alfred. "So, who do you want to go first? Since you are sick after all I'll let you pick."

The American coughed and poked at his own food after swallowing down the pills. The hot chocolate should have calmed him, but the circumstances he faced were not something that was easily calmed. "I know you expect me to immediately say that you need to go first," he sighed, "But that's not what I'm going to do. Instead I'll be the mature one and go first."

In face Mr. Kirkland has expected the student to choose him to take the first move, he definitely would have made him talk first. Well maybe Alfred had a lot more maturity than he expected. He shrugged and crossed his arms, sinking into the couch a little. "Okay then Mr. Um. Let's go."

"…" Al sighed, "What do you do when you see something you weren't supposed to see but know you should do something about it? Even if it means breaking the trust of someone you really care about?" The Englishman stared at his pasta and gave a long heavy sigh. Okay so maybe this conversation wasn't supposed to be the most laid back one but this seemed like a pretty angst start to it.

"Well… it depends on the circumstance," he sipped his drink, "If it's something as in you saw your brother hitting another student then you should confront him and ask why he continues to do something like that. If it's seeing your brother's report card and he has a D in a class then you could still talk to him about it. Or if it's you saw your father hitting your brother. Then you could tell an adult immediately." Through all of the scenarios, Al continued to flinch. The last one definitely hit home, but he disguised it all as shivers.

"As in…" he curled into a ball, "You figure out your brother has been lying to you all this time because while you think he's safe at school he's really being raped every single day. And you were too oblivious to notice something was wrong in the first place. And now you can't tell the authorities without getting your brother expelled since the man that is raping him is the eldest son of the headmaster of the school he goes to. And it could ruin his entire educational path now. What do I do in that scenario? Hypothetically of course," he added with a cough.

Arthur was now silent, one arm over his chest and the other resting on it to pinch the bridge of his nose. His breathing seemed labored, as if holding back an explosion of emotions for now. After a few shaky minutes, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. Those green eyes that were usually so bright with life and sarcasm waiting for its chance to be a smart ass was all gone. The emeralds had been dimmed to a dull glazed color. The only thing that really sparkled anymore were a few tears building.

"How long have you known about this Mr. Jones?" he asked, using the formal title now. This sent a shiver down Alfred spine and he sunk lower into the couch, wanting to take all of his words back. Maybe he just should have forgotten telling him about that part, only talk about the dinner. But then his hatred for Gilbert would be without explanation. Holes would be littered throughout his entire story and with Arthur being a retired(?) police man something like that would not get past his radar easily. He would question him until he got a decent answer out of him and then it would all spill out eventually.

"I learned about it today… trust me I wouldn't keep a secret like that from you for too long," he tried in an attempt to lighten the mood. Mr. Kirkland's eyes didn't even change in the slightest manner.

"Well what does that all have to do with you walking in the rain all alone? Too scared to even go back to your own house?" he sipped his hot chocolate again before setting the cup down, "So why does it eventually connect?"

"And here I thought you would have good deduction skills…" Alfred grumbled, now burrowed under the blanket, "My dad had invited a friend of his over and it turned out to be the headmaster of the school Matt goes to and his sons. AKA, the rapist included. I had some conflict with him at the very start, and then got in an argument with his father." Arthur raised an eyebrow at the lump on the couch.

"May I ask who this mystery person's name is?" he asked, trying to make the request seem innocent. Really he needed to know the information so he could report it to the police immediately. Being a teacher, he was obligated to immediately tell the authorities. But since the students in question were not in his district me just might not have the right to. Only Alfred could really do something about it.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt I think… and his damn father Mr. Beilschmidt…" he grumbled, burying his face into the pillow on the couch, "The only pleasant person in that fucking family is the silent one."

"Ludwig?" Mr. Kirkland asked, now knowing exactly who the teenager was talking about. "Blue eyes, blonde hair, pale skin..? Ring a bell?" Alfred poked his head out of the blankets, surprised that the teacher could give such an accurate description.

"U-uh yeah totally! And German!" he added and sat up, leaning against the arm of the couch, "How did you know?" Arthur gave a small chuckle, despite the conversation topic.

"You remember Feliciano and Lovino, right?" he asked, crossing his arms. Al gave a shiver at the memory of those horrid driver's ed classes.

"Oh you mean those psycho Italians who almost killed me five times?" he glared at him slightly before picking up the bowl of spaghetti and trying to eat some of it, "Do you really think I can forget them? But really what connections do Italians have with a bunch of asshat Germans?" It had been a while since he actually went to see them, maybe he needed to drop by sometime with Matthew…

"Well remember how Feliciano said he has a boyfriend?" Arthur ignored the whole comment about the family being asshats, "The name of his boyfriend coming back to you yet?" Alfred blinked a few times, shoveling pasta into his mouth and gulping it down…

(From Chapter 4)

_"You-a really like him," Feli suddenly said, "Don't you-a? I can see how-a you are trying to deny it but-a it's there. I saw your-a face flush earlier. And I know-a your heart is pounding. But I must warn-a you about Arthur." The Italian clasped his hands together and bit his lip. "He can-a be a difficult person to love, especially-a since you are a boy. I-a have a boyfriend myself, a nice-a German name Ludwig. It will be a struggle-a and you might want to just-a give up on a relationship with-a that person entirely. Don't give up on Arthur-a. He needs love in his life-a more than you know. But don't-a rush into anything. I'm guessing-a you don't know each other too well yet…"_

"…LUDWIG!" Al sat straight up, "You've got to be kidding me! Does everyone know each other here or what?!"

"It's a small place you get used to it," the teacher said dryly, "Now please continue your story about how all of this went to you being a damn idiot and getting a horrid cold."

The American pouted and crossed his arms, upset that he had once again been criticized for his "rash" and "illogical" decisions that were going to be a harm to his now "weakening health" at his "tender young age". Well at least that's how Artie had put it in a more "Shakespearian" sort of sense. And if he had done it again the Brit had threatened, and this he quotes, "so help me if you ever decide to do something so stupid like that and it ends up getting you killed I will raise you from the dead, murder you, raise you again, murder you one more time, then raise you back to beat your fucking ass for all of eternity until my hands fall off." Yeah, such a lovely person he had grown to crush on.

"Well I was all dressed up and planned on being on my best behavior no matter what because that's like what a good son does and everything. But during dinner… that headmaster decided to start to call me things that insulted my intelligence. And my dad just went along with it, like I was just some dog that hadn't jumped high enough to reach the Frisbee. So I decided to lose my temper and I… my dad has not always been a very nice person to me or my brother. But he… he treats Mattie better than me… maybe it's because I'm not good enough for him anymore?" he shrugged, like he would ever get a good answer, "But I said things he didn't like and he threatened me. Well in the context." He really didn't mean to have any sort of conflict with them, maybe he was just made that way.

"Does your father threaten you often?" Arthur asked, now looking even more concerned, "And don't try to lie to me. I find it quite insulting as well if someone tries to insult my intelligence." Al sighed and drank some of his hot chocolate, done with his spaghetti.

"…yes but I usually do something to piss him off. Really we're… I'm fine. Don't worry about me okay?" The last thing he wanted was the Englishman barging into his house and beating Francis to a bloody pulp, despite how entertaining that just might have been.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, looking clearly unimpressed. "I just told you NOT to lie to me," he scoffed at Alfred's surprised expression, "Oh come on I was a police officer before deciding to become a teacher! Do you really think I haven't interrogated people before?" He held his fingers up and started counting down the mistakes. "You didn't look my in the eye, you paused between answers, you added onto your answer too quickly at the beginning, your eyes twitched slightly, and you bit your lip. All signs of lying in adolescents."

"…ado-huh?"

"Young people," the Brit clarified, "Anyway I know for a fact now that living there is not safe for you. I mean you did after all come to school with a bruise on your cheek where you apparently, 'ran into a door'." Of course Arthur had never thought that had been the case, he just had decided to not question it at the moment due to the still developing trust between them.

The American looked away and sighed. "Okay maybe he does hurt me and Matt sometimes… but still I usually do something to piss him off! So in the end it is my fault after all! HA! TAKE THAT!" He stuck his hand up in the air, smirk evident on his face. Then his head started to pound and he laid back down, remembering he still was sick. Mr. Kirkland gave a sigh and crossed his arms.

"Just because you say you did something to upset him doesn't mean that gives you a right to say his treatment towards you was acceptable in any way. If he is leaving bruises then it is child abuse!" he leaned back in his seat, "You do realize I have to report this, correct?" Alfred's eyes widened and he sat straight up.

"No! You can't do that! They'll separate me and Mattie again! I can't go through missing another year of his life!" he curled into a ball, "I missed being with him for five years! Do you hear me? FIVE YEARS!"

"Alfred Jones calm yourself down!" Arthur snapped, standing up, "Don't you dare even talk to me like that! You are a guest in my house, my student, and I am nursing your health! I expect some damn respect from you whether we're at school or in public! Now I understand you are worried but you turn eighteen in July, for a few months-"

"I can stand dealing with all of this shit for a few more months!" the teenager screamed, not caring how much it hurt his throat, "You're an old bastard! You'll NEVER understand what it's like! To be separated from someone you love for years and be reunited just to be torn apart again! He's my BROTHER!"

"AND YOU HAVE TO LET GO!" Artie yelled, slamming his hand down on the coffee table so hard the room seemed to shake, "You want to help your brother, right?! If you do you need to LET GO and tell the authorities instead of sit on your ass all day, waiting for someone else to fix everything for you! This is our world today Mr. Jones, the real situation we are in! You think someone else is just going to solve your problem like that?! NO! You need to step up and do it yourself or else no one else will! Then what do you do?! Wait until your brother is killed?! Once he's no longer found in any use he could be murdered! NO EVIDENCE! HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF THAT?!"

Alfred sat there, staring up at the teacher with eyes wide. Sure Arthur had yelled at him plenty of times but… this was different. He looked like he was about to start to cry. "M-Mr. Kirkland-"

"Don't know what you're going through, huh?! Oh trust me Alfred you are not the only person in this world with fucking problems!"

"What is your problem Arthur?!" Al got up and touched the Brit's shoulder with the blanket wrapped around himself still. "Come on you never act like this! What the fuck is going on with you?!"

"Want to know what's going on?" Arthur was shaking, "I'm a teacher Alfred. I'm supposed to be the one you look up to, a positive role model in your life. Instead I sat there, waiting for you to open up towards me. I'm so sorry for failing. If… if I don't fix everything you might fail as well."

"…Arthur, you're not a failure," Alfred rested a hand on his shoulder, "You're anything BUT a failure! Who would have dealt with my selective learning? Who else would have decided to care about me when no one else did? Who else… who else could earn my trust?"

"But-"

"Arthur Kirkland," he smiled and took his hand, "You're the guy who managed to make me realize I'm not an idiot. If that is a failure… well you need a new dictionary."

To Be Continued… Maybe


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur felt his heart thumping against his chest, making his whole body shiver as he stared up at Alfred. He didn't know what had come over him, just that it really did hit him hard. Maybe he was catching whatever junk the American had from standing out in the rain so long. But something was sending shocks through his nervous system, making his brain feel numb. "Alfred-"

But then the teen coughed, his knees buckling. Mr. Kirkland cursed and lugged him back over to the couch. "Don't get up so quickly!" he scolded gently, "You're still in horrible condition!"

Al settled back under the blankets and such, burrowing into them a little with a small smile on his face. "Sorry, I just wanted to hug you and stuff. Sorry. It was either that or leave you to have your emotional breakdown." Of course he wasn't just going to let the Brit wallow in his despair while he slept from those overpowering cold medicines, he had to have done something. But that was a different topic, now he wanted to hear the other story.

"So…" he laid his head on the pillow son he could get a good view of Arthur, "How does this all fit in with you screaming in the kitchen while I was in the bath tub?"

Immediately, Mr. Kirkland's face fell and paled. He had honestly forgotten that he had a story he had to share as well to complete the deal. But if he went back on his word, Alfred would crush him like a soda can. Not to mention that he was dealing with a not very happy football player not to mention a friend of his who pummeled another player that just so happened to have tackled the American. Arthur honestly did not want to deal with those two combined if he wanted to keep all his bones intact.

"Well I just have one rule before I start," he crossed his arms over his chest and sat back down in the recliner, "If I see a grin, a smirk, or hear a giggle or a laugh I'm stopping the story and you are going to bed. Got it?" Al couldn't help but roll his eyes at that, now the teacher was his mother.

"Yes ma'am," he snorted, but on the inside he started to have a bad feeling. The only time he would ever tell someone to not laugh if it was really serious. And not as in, "I lost my phone" serious. But it was mostly like a, "I had sex and I think the girl is pregnant" serious.

AKA: BIG DEAL

So he grew somber and looked back up at the blonde. "Really, I won't laugh if it means that much to you. I don't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You did sit through my whole dramatic story without making fun of me. So I guess the least I could do is just do the same." That actually put a small smile on Arthur's face, but it was unfortunately a rather sad one instead of something special. The one that mad Alfred blush beyond all belief. This one made him want to start crying and hug him tight enough to crush his ribs.

"Thank you," the smile disappeared and he leaned back in the chair, "I guess I need to start with where everything began. Don't worry, it will make sense how it all relates by the end of it. I was about five when I realized I saw things no one else around me did. It was simple things, not anything huge. Like a few fairies or a green bunny with wings. Because of this I would talk to them, enjoy being with them. Due to that obviously, everyone around me thought I was insane. When I was seven I was removed from my school and taken to a private one so I could concentrate on my education more and hopefully the small environment would improve my condition which is known as schizophrenia.

"I… I met someone there, an assistant teacher working part time. He was the nicest person I had ever met since most people didn't like me. He…" his face flushed a light shade of pink, "He liked me. And as I grew older I started to love him. We were definitely far apart in age but I told him everything. By the time I was eleven I wanted to be with him all the time. But unfortunately I told him about how I could still see the creatures. How my fairies still talked to me. In my sixth grade year I was moved to a 'special' school. Basically an insane asylum."

This just about bulldozed Alfred over like he had been blindsided by an aircraft carrier. Well, if he didn't have the ability to see charging aircraft carriers that is. But all of this did surprise him and leave him speechless for once in his life.

"W-wait," Al swallowed hard and raised his hand up, finally having his voice back, "I remember you saying from your first year of middle school to your third year of high school you were just jumping around with schools. That means-"

"I have registered in twenty different insane asylums, mental hospitals, whatever they try to call it these days." The gaze in those emerald green orbs was now dull and almost dark. Yet Alfred saw glistening tears starting to form, a sure sign that a human was still in that body. "Does that scare you?"

The American bit his lip before shaking his head. "Of course not. I mean you said yourself you had been betrayed and sent there against your free will, right? So none of it is really your fault then. It's just another illusion that's drilled into your brain."

There was a long stretch of silence after that came out of his mouth. Maybe the teenager had said something to piss Mr. Kirkland off. Or maybe illusion just hadn't been the perfect word to say.

"Mr. Yao is no lie I can assure you in that," the Brit suddenly whispered, "He was the person who saved my life from those wretched places. He knew that what I saw wasn't just something they could force out of me with harsh teachers and enclosed environments that kept me like a caged animal. No, he did everything the opposite. He was kind, even though he had been firm with me. He took me outside to see the hospital gardens every single day from twelve to three in the afternoon. He would bring a picnic basket for our lunch and we would to lessons in the grass, next to the flowers, or even in a tree if I had wanted to. He concerned himself with me. How I felt, if I understood the material to a level that would get me past this grade and beyond. He understood just what I was capable of without even me knowing it."

Arthur smiled up at Alfred, a few tears actually running down his cheeks. "You see Mr. Um, that's what I want to be to you. I want to be a teacher that you can connect with professionally and casually. I don't want to be some figure that loomed over you, only seeing you as a student. I want us to be actually friends. As in, we know things that no one else does. We tell each other things we would never tell to anyone else. That is a relationship you deserve and need." He gave a shrug. "If I can't provide that then I need to get myself a new job."

Al just laid there in complete shock and a touch of awe. He really hadn't expected something like this whatsoever. Not to mention Mr. Kirkland was so calmed and collected, minus a few tears here in there. If he had been admitting all of this, he would have broken down and wailed like an infant.

The Brit got to his feet and wiped his tears on his sleeve. "I'll tell you the rest tomorrow okay? It's already who knows how late- 10:02 if you want to get into specifics. You're sick and need all the rest you can get." It was an abrupt exit, but he really did need to compose himself. If he didn't then he probably would end up collapsing and gross sobbing all over the teen.

"Hey Artie?" Alfred whispered as he buried his face in his blankets, "Why tell me all of this? What makes me so special, huh? Couldn't you tell just some other student?"

Arthur gave a small smile and turned around so he could look down the stairs and at the figure on the couch. "Al, I tell you because you're the one person I would trust with my life." With that, he went upstairs. "Goodnight love."

The lights turned off and that left the American sitting in the dark, think about that statement over and over again. _'The one person I would trust with my life'. _He sighed and closed his eyes, glasses already on the side table. "Arthur Kirkland trusts me with something precious…" he mused with a small chuckle, "Who knew?"

Slowly, he fell asleep and dozed off into dreamland.

_Alfred shot at another creature, his face set in a grim expression and one arm clutching the wound on his right. Yet still, he shot with all the bullets left in that damn gun. Not a single one would be wasted in this situation if he wanted to survive. He felt Arthur press up against him, shoulder blades digging into his mid-back. He could almost feel the sweat dripping down the Brit's underarms, hear is ragged and almost forced breathing. "Alfred… there's too many of them!"_

_"It's too late to retreat!" Al shouted over the noise of the zombies trying to get in close to them, "We have to finish this!" But as he turned away to shoot again, something slashed at his arm. He screamed in agony as pain shot through his forearm and red blood streamed down it, staining his clothes. He collapsed onto the ground, clutching the wound as he struggled to stay calm. Unfortunately, the shot had gone through his side as well._

_"Al!" Arthur held the America close, eyes wide, "No you can't die! Please! Don't leave me here all alone!" Alfred coughed, his vision dancing with spots. He started to grow lightheaded, feeling his life slowly starting to fade away._

_"Run," he begged, eyes glancing up at the blonde, "I don't want you to die… please just go. They'll kill you if you stay here." The Brit cradled his head, kissing his forehead softly._

_"I won't leave you Alfie," he whispered, resting his hand in his palm, "If you die I'm going to die by your side. You're my lover… that would be a stupid decision for me to make. And being eaten alive really isn't that bad when I think about it." Al couldn't help but give a small laugh squeezing his hand tight._

_"Yeah… better getting eaten alive next to someone you love," he craned his neck to kiss him on the lips, latching on with what strength he had left. As the two gave their last display of affection, the flesh eating corpses closed in on them…_

Meanwhile… In Arthur's room…

Arthur slipped his arm into his nightshirt, humming a little. He had gotten his shower done and now was dressing for a hopefully long sleep. He had attempted to wax his eyebrows once again, but he had unfortunately failed miserably. There were still those horrid thick monsters hovering over his eyes. He gave a sigh, oh well.

He buttoned the shirt up and slipped his boxers back on. Finally, he could go to his own bed and sleep. But something still nagged at his mind, eating at him. Why did he tell Alfred everything? Why didn't he hide his feelings like he had always done in the past? That's how he had been taught to live, yet he couldn't even look at his student when lying without completely breaking down.

Slowly he got his phone out and texted Feliciano.

To: Feliciano

November 13, Friday

10:12

Hey Feliciano, you awake?

From: Feliciano

November 13, Friday

10:13

Ve~ Yup~

Reply

November 13, Friday

10:17

Great. I need some help.

How do you admit to a student of yours that you love them?

To Be Continued… Maybe…


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 people! Thank you so much for staying with me and reading this! There's going to be about, maybe five chapters more depending on how it all plays out in my head. Sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoy. In the reviews please tell me what you think will happen in the next chapter or what you want to happen.**

**Enjoy!**

Alfred's eyelids fluttered open as bright sunlight flooded his vision, making him groan a little. He couldn't breathe out his nose still, but the headache was gone for now. Apparently those pills did help him after all. He didn't know if his fever was still there or not, but he felt a hell lot better.

He rolled off the couch and struggled to get to his feet, muscles sore and stiff. He would have to fix that later but at the moment he had more important things to worry about. It hit him hard that he realized today he would have to go home or else Mr. Kirkland could get in some big trouble. That just about made him want to start puking his guts out since he knew there was only one thing that would be waiting for him when he was taken home.

An angry Francis ready to beat him to a pulp.

He wouldn't be able to get out of this without a bruise or two. Maybe some cuts as well. If he knew his father well, the Frenchman wouldn't be sober by this time. That just made anger spikes even worse. To be honest, it terrified him.

He sighed and headed upstairs, searching to find where Arthur's room was. He guessed it was the one on the right and peeked inside. There was a bed shoved in the corner with a British flag duvet, and a familiar figure burrowed underneath them. Blonde locks peeked out of the top, making Al chuckle. There was also a desk with a lamp and a mac resting under a pile of papers. It was messy, yet clean and organized as well.

How the Brit managed it left Alfred clueless.

Nudging the bundle carefully, he tried not to disturb him terribly. "Hey Mr. Kirkland? It's morning and stuff. I'm feeling a whole lot better now. Thanks for the help." No answer. "Mr. Kirkland?" A snore. "I guess if you're not listening to me then I can just lock you in this room and have sex with you right?"

There was a faint, "please" from the sleeping teacher which made Alfred's face flush who knows how many shades of red. "ARTHUR!"

Arthur shrieked and rolled off the bed, tangled in the blankets that had been on top of him. Now trapped he thrashed around, arms and legs flailing as he continued to scream. The teen jumped back, startled definitely but also amused when watching the whole scene unfold. The Englishman looked like a caterpillar that had gotten stuck in it's chrysalis and the wings were getting tangled into the mess.

Definitely the highlight of his morning, but he knew he had to help the poor guy before he choked himself. "Hey dude calm down!" he grabbed one of the arms that shot out from the rather dangerous pile, "I'll help you out!"

There was loud cursing, though it was muffled beyond recognition, and honestly he guessed half of it was words even Alfred didn't know. He pulled at the duvet, struggling to make the Brit to stop moving. "Arthur Kirkland if you keep moving I will knock you unconscious!"

Immediately the squirming stopped and the vulgar language lowered it's volume a good amount. Alfred mumbled a "thank you" and carefully unraveled him. Mr. Kirkland was in his boxers and a t-shirt, hair an absolute mess and eyes clouded with sleep. The teen couldn't help blushed seeing the man like this, but didn't say anything. "Didn't mean to scare you dude, you were sleeping like a log."

Arthur huffed and got to his feet, setting the blankets back on his bed. "Oh hush it I was up all night trying to watch over you," he mumbled, "You had started crying at about two in the morning. I had to sit there and wait until you got a hold of yourself or stopped wailing. You mumbled, screamed, thrashed around… even slept walk a little." He chuckled lightly. "You're such a hard person to watch over."

Actually, the situation had been slightly different…

_Arthur woke up to hearing choking sobs from downstairs. For a few moments, he thought the TV was on. But then he remembered how the teen was sleeping on the couch at the moment. Getting up and slipping on his robe, he headed back down the stairs. "Alfred? Are you okay?"_

_He was shocked to find Al curled into a ball, crying into his knees. Never in the few months he had been Alfred's teacher has he seen him like this. There has been only three times he had cry, none of them like this. "Alfred what on Earth happened?!" he shrieked and grabbed his hand, "Are-"_

_The American clung to his hand, crying ceasing immediately and turned to quiet whimpers. Arthur frowned and tried pulling hand away to realize that trying to get out of a football player's grip was a lot harder than he had thought. He felt like his hand was going to be ripped off is he tried to break free. Either way, he was stuck where he was._

_Sighing, he heard the boy mumble something. He strained to hear, frowning a little as the words came together. "…please don't leave mama…" Alfred whispered hoarsely, "Y-you promised…" He trembled slightly, tears still sliding down his cheeks. "I-I don't want you to leave me alone…" Mr. Kirkland's body froze, understanding everything at once. While Al said he had gotten over his mother's death,_

_He never had and probably never will._

Arthur tried to smile, but it was really hurting him at the moment. He had made his decision last night that he had different feelings towards the teen, but now he was still unsure of following Feli's advice. He could always just try and see where it ended him up. Maybe he would get his way, maybe he wouldn't. He could at least maybe get an idea if Alfred somewhat liked him more than a teacher or a friend.

Al stretched, making a deep gravely throat noise that sounded like a dying clown horn or Dory attempting to speak whale. Either way, it was definitely a weird noise he had always laughed at. "Well, I'm gonna steal clothes from your closet that are two sizes too small and cook breakfast," he yawned, "Get some pants on before coming downstairs, will you?"

Dodging a pillow being chucked at him, he ran off laughing. He didn't mean to embarrass him, but he couldn't help it either. Sometimes it seemed like the Brit was asking for it.

He hopped into the kitchen, a whole lot more energetic than normal on mornings. It was rare for him to even get out of bed before eleven o'clock without an alarm, yet the clock read "7:13am". He brushed that off, blaming the sickness or medicine perhaps. It really could have been anything. Anything except being in Arthur's house of course. That was just ridiculous.

Right?

He shrugged and looked around for a skillet or something. The kitchen was a nice set up, marble counters and sparkling tiled flooring that almost made him slip from the socks on his feet. It almost reminded him of a commercial kitchen or something, just more dishes in the sink that made it somewhat realistic.

He finally found one and got a carton of eggs, perfect for a somewhat decent breakfast. He hummed as he turned the stove on and set the skilled on top of it. A few eggs would make enough for them. Mr. Kirkland didn't look like he ate much anyway so he didn't need to worry.

Meanwhile…

Upstairs, Arthur grumbled as he changed into a fresh pair of boxers and looked through his dresser drawers for some slacks. There were a few pairs of jeans, but they seemed too formal to go over to meet Alfred's father. Though he knew that he would probably pummel the man into the dust and use his head for crochet, he needed to still be in his professional wear.

He could always get the blood off later and leave the body in a ditch.

Chuckling at the thought of that unfolding, he pulled his legs into the tight fitting black pants. He had always hated how people always said his legs and butt looked like they belonged to a woman especially when he had to wear clothes that curved around those specific areas. Though he did happen to notice many times when Al had been staring at his arse with a … "interesting" gleam in his eyes. Not that he minded in the slightest now that had had stopped lying to himself how he truly felt towards the teenager.

He zipped his fly and buttoned them, looking up at his closed for a white button up shirt to wear under one of his sweater vests. It had been a while since he had been able to actually put one on so he found himself throwing a mini party in his mind. He hummed "Teenagers" by My Chemical Romance and snapped the shirt off of it's hanger before sliding his arms into the sleeves. He then grabbed a red tie from a hook and looped it around his neck and under the collar. He tied it quickly, a professional at it now.

Now came the glorious sweater vest.

For many reasons he settled on choosing the bright green one, the one Alfred said complemented his eyes. Or at least in one of those really weird dreams he had. Either way he absolutely loved it without another thought. "All teenagers scare the living shit out of me," he sung a little as he got the vest on, "They could care less as long as someone'll bleed."

He felt himself dancing a little bit, not really remembering he had a guest so the door to his room being open didn't faze him exactly. He just started singing the lyrics, his voice getting louder as he got into it. His punk days had really never left him. In reality, they were still very much alive inside of him.

Little did he know that Alfred was starting to hear him.

~Back to Le Kitchen~

Al had been working on putting the eggs on each individual plate when he heard faint singing. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the stairwell, straining to hear just what was going on.

"The boys and girls in the clique."

It couldn't be what he thought it was.

"The awful names that they stick."

He crept up the stairs, starting to get a little bit scared even.

"You're never gonna fit in much, kid."

"Oh God Arthur please don't be doing this," the American begged, desperate. He really didn't want to go in and see something that would scar him.

"But if you're troubled and hurt-"

Alfred got to the second floor, hearing the voice loud and clear now.

"What you got under your shirt-"

He looked inside of the room and his jaw made a clank as it hit the floor.

"WILL MAKE THEM PAY FOR THE THINGS THAT THEY DID!" Arthur belted out, throwing one of his arms into the air. The other one was occupied with his hairbrush that was being used as an imaginary microphone. He was dressed nice, but apparently someone had gotten a little distracted when getting ready.

"Pfft… BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" Al let out, laughing as loud and obnoxious as possible for a human being. The Brit jumped about ten feet in the air and spun around, eyes widening when he realized he had been caught. "Dude you…! HAHAHA!" He could barely breathe, clutching his side and practically crying as well.

"YOU BASTARD!" Arthur shrieked, his face going from red to an impossible shade of dark purple, "Do you have to make fun of me every damn time?!"

"Come on it was awesome!" the American snickered, "That sweater vest really does compliment your feminine figure~"

"OUT!"

~Le Timeskip~

Arthur grumbled many ungentlemanly words as he wrapped Alfred's horribly burnt thumb. "I told you to let me do the cooking!" he scolded, "I'm the adult and you are still sick! You don't need an injury to add on top of everything you twat! I mean honestly you're supposed to be mature enough to own a house soon…"

All the taller blonde heard was, "Blah, blah I'm angry for no good reason! Blah, blah you're such an idiot! Blah blah, fuck me!" Well, he knew he hadn't have heard the last thing yet from the Englishman's own mouth. But it was a nice fantasy to try to live out anyway. "I didn't mean to!" he whined, "It was an accident I promise!"

He had been cooking some sausage to go with the eggs when the teacher had come down the stairs and scared the shit out of him when yelling at him for cooking when he was still sick. His hand had slipped off the handle and landed on the rather hot metal surface on the side of the skillet. So technically speaking, it wasn't even his fault in the first place.

"What am I going to do with you?" Mr. Kirkland mumbled, "I swear I leave you alone for a minute and you can manage to cause World War 3 by the time I come back! I don't want to take you home and then your brother freaks out that I had let you hurt yourself! Think before you act for heaven's sake!" He paused and reached to get the tape to secure the bandage. "You're smart enough to do so. I know you are. By the way have you been working on those Geometry assignments?"

After working through Algebra, he had finally decided it was about time that the teen could go up a level and hopefully succeed in Geometry. Since he had at first struggled with Algebra that hypothetically meant Geometry would turn out to be a lot easier for him. It would give Alfred a lot less stress with trying to figure out the problems and Arthur more time to focus on World History, Biology, and English Language Arts. The poor teen had been given curriculum for middle school student's when he was in high school because they assumed he was stupid.

Ha. He would prove them wrong.

Al nodded, proud of himself actually. Like the Brit had predicted, Geometry was easier since all you had to do was plug the numbers into a formula. The worksheet had been completed in his bag, ready for Monday's grading. "But dude," he smirked a little, "A certain someone, maybe from England, had promised to finish his story from last night."

Mr. Kirkland couldn't help but chuckle, he had been waiting before the American had brought it up, and for once he actually felt comfortable with sharing it. That was something that was rare.

"When you were in the bath, I was talking to one of my friends. He's a lovely fellow named Flying Mint Bunny, I'll draw you a picture of him later so you can get an idea of what he looks like. Anyway, we were… discussing certain things…"

(From Chapter 7)

'Then why did you pick him up?' _a voice whispered, Flying Mint Bunny. Or that's what he called the rabbit. It was one of his special friends, the ones only he saw. _'If he is just a student to you, then why do you care for him so much?' _He huffed, getting a stainless steel pot and filling it with water._

_"I am his teacher!" he waited until it was half way full before shutting the water off and placing the pot on the stove, "Any teacher wouldn't let their student walk in the street when it's pouring down rain! I'm not some heartless bastard!" That was insanity, just letting Al freeze to death out there. Of course he had to help him! And karma may kick him in the pants if he didn't do so._

'If it was any other student you had then you would have taken them back to their own house,' _Flying Mint Bunny mused, a smile on her lips, _'You would have never offered your home to them. Even if they had been sick. Admit it Artie, Alfred is much more to you then why you keep saying he is. You love him…'

Arthur really didn't want to go into that much detail, but he also didn't want to lie either. He could tell the truth, just not all of it. "We were talking about the situation you had been in. She touched a very… sensitive, subject. Of course, I eventually broke down and started having a fit in a sense. When I get into certain modes, there's no stopping me. I can be a very terrifying person. That answer your question?"

Alfred gave a small nod, though he already knew something was being hidden from him. Oh well, trust had to be built overtime of course. He had the patience to wait a little while longer. "So where are we going from here?"

"Well of course I'm taking you home," Artie said simply, getting up, "I would just love to have a nice chat with that bastard father of yours. You know, the one you said was drunk 24/7?" He managed to keep a calm tone, but his eyes shined with anger. It was a look Al had gotten plenty of times in class. Like when he spilled his soda over his text book.

"Promise you won't say that I told you?" he begged, desperate, "He'll kill me if he figure out I ratted him out!"

"Alfred Jones," Mr. Kirkland crossed his arms, "Do you really think I would let you live with him after all of that?! Seriously! I am not that daft! If you're in an abusive environment then I'm going to have to do something about it! I am a retired policeman, I know the codes like a punk knows his guitar!" He heaved a sigh. "I am going to get you and your brother out of there, you won't be separated I promise. If you have family members close, which I know you do since you told me, then you could easily be placed in one of those homes. I'm on your side, I promise."

Alfred stayed silent, scared still. He loved his father, even if he just loved the man he had been before everything went wrong. What would happen if he just left with Matthew? Francis really might snap and do something he would regret.

"Well, let's eat and get going then. It's already past nine. I don't want you to still be in my house at ten."

"Yes sir."

~Le Timeskip~

Al shifted nervously in the passenger seat. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from Arthur, the jeans luckily two sizes too big for the Brit so they fit the American decently. The sweatshirt must have been some college gift (Oxford was printed proudly on the front) because as he had put it on, he knew the teacher would drown in it and never been seen again.

Mr. Kirkland looked over and noticed how fidgety the teen was. Who wouldn't be nervous? He had stomped out of there and basically ran away. And who knows what he had said. With a father like that one wrong sentence could result in very bad things. "Alfred… it will be fine I promise. If that man tries to hit you'll I'll make sure to immediately take care of the situation."

Al gave a small smile, glad the crazy dude was on his side. But then he looked up and froze, all of reality hitting him hard like a punch in the gut.

He was already home for one thing, but on the doorstep was Matthew. That wouldn't be weird, if it wasn't for the ugly bruise that was swelling up the Canadian's left eye. His wired glasses were lower on his nose due to the horrible ugly shades of purple and pink, puffing up that side of his face. Tears were running down his cheeks and his violet eyes stared at the ground with fear. It all made Alfred want to puke, he already could guess what had happened.

Because of his selfish actions, Mattie had paid the price.

To Be Continued… Maybe…


	11. Chapter 11

**Guys I am so sorry this chapter took so long to get out! I've been having writer's block and with school, DeviantArt, and everything else it's hard to get everything done. But I promise I'll try to get it done quicker!**

The minute the car stopped Alfred unbuckled and slammed the door open so he could run across the driveway. Matthew looked up barely, motions delayed most likely from pain. Seeing the American his eyes filled with tears and he managed to get to his feet, keeping his balance.

Al immediately hugged Matt, sorrow filling his emotions. He held him close, not wanting to let go. His mind was full of thoughts, a majority of it bad. He had been stupid and rash he had let his brother take his punishment. Yeah, some hero he was when he couldn't even protect the Canadian.

Mattie was shocked that's for sure but he wrapped his arms around him in return to being embraced, burying his face in his shoulder. "Alfred…" he mumbled, tears pricking at the back of his eyes.

Al squeezed his brother close, that horrible feeling in his stomach once again. His voice sounded like a croak, barely audible. He was cold too and his clothes were wet from the rain. How long had he been sitting out here anyway? 2 hours? 5? The minute those bastard Germans left?

He didn't really want to have to think about it.

Finally Matthew looked up and saw Arthur locking his car and striding up the driveway, eyes glancing at his surroundings. "…who's that?" he whispered hoarsely, gripping onto his brother tighter. His violet eyes scanned the teacher with a little bit of protectiveness of the American and curiosity.

Stroking his back to calm him down, Alfred looked back at the Brit. "I think you remember me talking about Mr. Kirkland, right? Well here he is in the flesh. I present to you Arthur," he hid the blush on his face, "The best teacher in the education field."

"Inform me what other fields a teacher would serve in," the Englishman retorted but he seemed pleased with the praise, "Now I think you must be Matthew I presume? I have never seen someone look so much like Alfred after all." He examined the boy carefully and did see the resemblances. The hair color, the face shape, their body shape even, and the glasses. But Mattie had shy eyes that didn't match that fiery determination that shone in Alfred's. His gestures were definitely something different as well. He seemed tight, clenching up and messing with articles of his clothing to keep himself occupied. He was an inch shorter and instead of a cowlick a curl seemed to extend from the part in his hair.

He seemed cute and fragile while Alfred was handsome and robust.

The Canadian nodded slowly, feeling slightly embarrassed about his eye from what Al could tell.

"Y-yes… hi," he let go of his brother, "A-Alfred talks about you a lot. He can't go a day without mentioning something about you really. You really are his idol." Both men blushed violently, faces a deep cherry red. The American honestly looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock and die at that moment.

"M-Mattie you don't just go around and tell people that stuff!" Al shrieked, burying his face in his hands, "He's not my damn idol! He's just a weirdo teacher with odd tendencies and can't be normal for one moment!" Arthur hid his hurt well, but those words seemed to cut a lot deeper if someone else had said them. It made him hesitant about his decision to make a move and show his feelings. But as he replayed the reaction he found himself smiling a little, Alfred was just being an average teenage boy trying to hide the fact he liked a girl. Well, except it wasn't exactly a woman. DEFINITELY not a woman in the slightest.

But that's what made the moment sweeter.

He patted the American's shoulder gently, a smile on his lips. "Come on Mr. Um let's not get all jittery, I really don't mind. Being an idol of one of my students is rather nice actually. I feel appreciated." That actually punched Alfred in the gut. Did he really lack trying to show he appreciated the Brit helping him out? Yeesh how much of a clueless jerk was he?

"I guess you are a somewhat awesome person…" he mumbled awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of the sweatshirt. Maybe when he got used to knowing that his teacher was a psycho then he would be able to open up a little more. It was nice to know that he trusted him though, the least he could do something decent in return. That was when Matthew noticed Alfred's new attire and raised an eyebrow.

"May I ask where exactly you got those from? I mean I don't believe you ran out of the house prepared in the slightest. Not to mention you've never been anywhere near Oxford." Matt knew he hadn't even been outside for the United States for that matter.

"Oh, this?" he looked down at himself, "It belongs to Mr. Bushybrows himself. I didn't want to wear that sopping wet suit thank you very much." Scowling, Arthur chucked the plastic bag holding Alfred's wet articles of clothing at his head as hard as he could manage.

"Oh fuck off you faggot!" he huffed and crossed his arms, "If you don't appreciate my help then next time I'll ignore you all together! Leave you to pass out with a horrid cold! Instead of trying to make cruel jokes about me you'll be freezing!" Mr. Kirkland couldn't help but be somewhat offended, though he admit it wasn't the worse thing he had heard. Al couldn't help but roll his eyes as he caught the bag.

"Yeah, yeah, threaten me later would ya? I really need to check of Matthew's eye," he turned towards his younger brother, "And don't even think about trying to lie to me about how you got it. No, 'I ran into a wall' or, 'I fell down the stairs' or, 'I tripped over the vacuum and the handle hit me' shit. I hate having to deal with you not being able to tell a single damn thing that's true to me." Matt stared at him, absolutely flabbergasted beyond belief.

"One, you used proper English for once, somewhat. Two," he backed up, "What's wrong? You don't need to get mad at me and all that. What's with the sudden fatherly scolding on my 'truthfulness' towards you?" For once the Canadian was getting a little sassy even, though there was a shining of nervousness in the back of his eyes. Alfred scoffed and looked over, glaring at the cement instead of looking at anyone. He couldn't believe Matt was still trying to hide everything from him! Even after he had run away!

"I'm not stupid despite what everyone says," he snapped bitterly, "But you've probably just gone along with the rest of the crowd haven't you?" Before Matthew could defend himself, Arthur cleared his throat loudly.

"Why don't we head inside, hmm?" he took Alfred's arm to calm him down a little, "I think some people just need to cool their heads right now. How about you two can discuss everything while I have a lovely chat with your father? That alright with you two?" Matthew glanced over at his brother and nodded.

"If you don't mind sir…" he mumbled as he fiddled with his sleeve, shyly keeping his gaze on the floor for now. Mr. Kirkland gave a sharp nod and opened the unlocked door easily.

"Both of you inside then," he ordered, though he wasn't using a demanding voice, "I think we've all been out here too long. It could rain again any moment." With that he ushered the twins inside and closed the door behind him. The house honestly made him want to puke.

Beer cans covered the coffee table in the living room, the TV was still on some porn movie, the kitchen had a kettle that was slowly melting from being on the burner for too long, and the table was still littered with dishes and glasses from what Arthur assumed was the dinner last night. He wrinkled his nose in disgust before knocking on the doorframe. "Anyone home?!"

"What the hell do you want..?" someone grumbled from the back of the house, "I don't want visitors right now…" The Brit cleared his throat loudly.

"Excuse me sir but I have done the courtesy of taking your son home. He was on the sidewalk in the rain freezing to almost death, just so you know-" he started quite angrily but then Francis came into his line of sight and he choked on whatever else he was going to say. "M-Mr. Bonnefoy..?"

Alfred's father squinted his eyes and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Do I know you?" he grumbled as he blew out a plume of smoke from his cigarette. Arthur felt like his legs were going to give out from right underneath him.

"Don't you remember me?" he smoothed his bangs back so his forehead was bare except for a white scar, "You called me 'Artie Potter' all the time..?" Francis' eyes widened as well and Alfred and Matthew just looked confused beyond all belief, not really getting what was happening.

"Arthur Kirkland," he breathed, "I can't believe my eyes. After all these years who would have known…" That's when it finally hit Al like a punch in the gut. He stared at the two in awe and pointed at his teacher.

"Don't tell me he's really-"

"I really didn't know it was him Alfred!" Mr. Kirkland had already let his hand fall to his side, "You had never told me his name!" Honestly he had forgotten entirely that Al had kept his mother's maiden name after the divorce and such. And he would have never guessed that the teacher who had landed him in mental hospitals would be his crush's son.

Mr. Bonnefoy had been the father of Alfie all this time and he didn't even know.

Alfred was starting to hyperventilate just a little as he backed up into the living room, the pieces fitting together. He knew that his father had been a teacher at one point in his career but he had been certain it was at some public school, not a fancy private one that Artie had described.

He was also scared that his teacher would have one of the two reactions.

1\. Have a bias and side with his dad on everything, therefore leaving him in the dust.

2\. Pound Francis into a pancake and the dance on his grave.

One was obviously better than the other, if it had been legal. But he knew neither could be chosen since it would put him in a horrible spot no matter what the outcome really. Seeing Arthur go to jail wasn't on his bucket list, despite how ironically hilarious that would truly be if it wasn't for the fact he would have absolutely zero chances of graduating.

Mr. Kirkland cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "I am your son's teacher," he gestured to Alfred, "He's told me some things about the living conditions here and I am beyond not okay with ANY of it. Just because you are his parent doesn't mean you can just hurt them without any consequences." He was using his police voice for now, eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare. Francis met his gaze evenly, eyes dull from drinking so much though so it was less impressive.

"Boys I want you both to go back to your room," he then gave this almost glower at the American, "And Alfred we're going to have a long talk about your little adventure tonight. Let's just say for now this definitely won't go without some serious consequences." Al growled and grabbed his brother's forearm before spinning around and stomping off.

"Come on Mattie!" he snapped hastily as he dragged him down the hallway. Matt let out a small squeak, struggling to keep up with Alfred's long strides. It was obvious he was still confused why he continued to be such a jerk to him.

"Alfie what's wrong with you?! Can't we at least try to just talk through all of this?!" he tried desperately, "Al why are you ignoring me?!" Finally the Canadian let out a deep noise from his throat and dug his heels into the carpet so he couldn't be moved any further. "ALFRED FOSTER JONES WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND STOP BEING SUCH A DICK TO ME FOR FUCK'S SAKE?!"

Al spun around and slammed the bedroom door behind him. "WHY CAN'T YOU TRUST ME ENOUGH TO TELL ME THAT YOU WERE BEING RAPED EVERY SINGLE DAY?!" Tears streamed down his cheeks, red with anger, as he struggled to calm his breathing. "Why didn't you come to me when that bastard blackmailed you with that picture?! Why didn't you tell someone what was going on?! Why did you lie to me ever since it started happening?! How long have you been fake Mattie, HOW LONG?!"

Staring at him with wide eyes, Matthew took a step back. "Alfred… what are you talking about-?" he was slightly I shock, not sure how to handle such a situation.

"Don't play dumb with me!" Al snapped harshly as he wiped at his eyes, "For heaven's sake I'm your big brother!"

"By six minutes!" Matt defended but the taller blonde plowed on, not wanting to stop.

"I saw you with Gilbert! I can't believe you didn't bother to try to tell me what was happening! I told you everything! And you decided to just ignore that I'm right here?! I'm your brother! Brothers are supposed to be there for their siblings and try to fix it! How am I supposed to help you and protect you if you won't just come to me and tell me that something is going on?!" Alfred looked down, ashamed of himself.

The Canadian's expression turned to shock and guilt as his brother talked and felt tears fill his own eyes. "Alfred…" he took his glasses off, "I... I never thought you would have found out honestly but…" He bit his lip and hugged Al as tight as he could manage. "I'm so sorry…"

His body trembled as he struggled to keep himself together. What was wrong with him? Ever since he had talked to Arthur he had been a complete mess when it came to stuff like this. He could hardly blame hormones but his emotions were something he couldn't control. For the first time in years he was actually crying in front of his brother. "Sorry for what?" he choked out, "Sorry for not being able to trust me?" Matt shook his head and let go of him so he could stare into his eyes.

"No, I'm sorry that I failed to tell you, I'm sorry for being too embarrassed to tell you, but I need you to acknowledge that it isn't the greatest thing to come out with." Matt stared blankly into Alfred's eyes, trying to get him to understand. "I couldn't depend on you forever Alfie. I know you want to protect me but I need to be able to stand up for myself."

The American settled himself down on the foot of his bed and rested his head in his hands. He shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He really didn't enjoy yelling at his brother, and realized this wasn't exactly Mattie's fault, either. He looked up at Matt with red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "I'm sorry. I don't try to be a protective bastard, I just try to be your brother." He looked down into his hands again, staring at his feet. "I let mom go, and I don't want to be responsible for your death too. I want to be here for you as much as I can… I missed being here for you five years and all I manage to do is mess everything up."

"Alfred!" Matthew gripped his shoulder, "You haven't failed okay?! How many times have you defended me from dad when he was in one of his mad moods? You were the one who made sure that I wasn't crying myself to sleep every night when mom died! I knew that you were upset but you kept smiling in front of me. I know we're twins but you took charge as my big brother! Who else would have done that?" He didn't give him a chance to answer. "I know you're hard on yourself but you've got to get over it. I'm sure Mr. Kirkland has said something similar."

Al paused so he could think about his answer. He had to admit he usually was pressuring himself when it came to the wellbeing of Mattie. He always seemed to think he wasn't doing good enough no matter how hard he tried. Sure Arthur had said something about it once…

_"I told you I just can't do it!" Alfred threw the pencil down and rested his forehead on the desk surface, "I don't understand any of this!" The Brit frowned and tapped his head with the ruler._

_"Alfred Jones this is not the time to be having a hissy fit," he slapped it hard against the desk, "It's confusing yes but so was everything else at the beginning." They had been working on geography and he was having trouble trying to get the Asian countries right and remembering where they were. The names were weird and he just wanted to give up sorting through all of them._

_"This is all stupid and you know it!" Al huffed and banged his head against the wood a few times, "Stupid." BANG. "Stupid." CLUNK. "STUPID!" Mr. Kirkland grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet._

_"Now listen here Alfred Jones you need to stop complaining and being so hard on yourself," he snapped harshly, "You're shooting to graduate, correct?" He didn't even let the teen answer. "And you made a deal with me at the very beginning of the year to trust me with your education, right?" Al gave a meek nod. "Then I want you to go to that map and write the countries in. Start with the ones you're certain of and the ones you don't get we'll work on." He paused. "No one learns how to do something the minutes it's given to them Mr. Um. You need to work at it. You're not perfect and that's okay. Stop beating yourself up every time you're not what's impossible for human beings."_

Alfred had to admit that had been a very interesting conversation between the two of them. Matthew was right, he needed to realize he wasn't always going to be right by his side forever. He needed to step back and while he would still help, he needed to focus on his future as well.

"I…" he sighed, "I guess I still owe you an apology. I did yell at you a lot after all." The Canadian gave a small smile and hugged him tight.

"You were just being an Alfred," he nuzzled him a little, "Don't worry about it." Al laughed and ruffled his twin's hair.

"Well how about I fix up your eye then we can talk about what we do about the situation with Gilbert, okay?" Matthew's face fell a little but he managed a small smile.

"Okay Al," he took his glasses off, "I'm glad you came back you know." The American chuckled as he got the first-aid kit down from his closet.

"I'm not a coward dude, of course I would come back." He immediately started swabbing the bruising even though there was a horrid feeling in his stomach. Sure this talk didn't go exactly horrible but he was worried about how Arthur and Francis were working things out.

He just hoped it wasn't a battle to the death just yet.

To Be Continued… Maybe…


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur crossed his arms tight against his chest, his heart thumping hard enough where he could swear the organ was embedding into his ribs. Or at least what was left of it anyway. It just had to have been Francis Bonnefoy. Of all the people that could have been Alfred's father FRANCIS was the one God had picked! He just imagined Him up there on his throne in heaven, laughing his head off.

This the Brit didn't find funny one bit. He had never been fond of irony in all of his life really. He preferred sarcasm any day.

Already he had a basic idea of what the conversation was going to play out as. In his mind it was all just a minefield. If one misstep was made from either of them then all hell was going to break loose.

"How have you been Mr. Bonnefoy?" he started out smoothly, keeping his gaze calm and cool. Losing his temper right at the beginning would only make him seem unprofessional and a child, both something he couldn't afford. This was dealing with the delicacy of Al's life and wellbeing. If he messed up the American would most likely pay for it.

The Frenchman glanced up as he sat down on the couch, crossing his legs. "Annoyed z'at jou just popped up and expected to criticize z'e way I raise my children," he sucked in a long puff from his cigarette, "Jou're 'ardly an adult yourself Arz'ur. A child trying to put on a suit and tie and expecting to get asked to z'e prom!" His eyes were dull from obvious beer consumption, anger glazed over them. "I'm not sure why z'ey would let you 'andle someone like Alfred. One slip and 'e'll remove jour spine."

BANG! The first mine had gone off. A small one luckily, but the explosion caused damage.

Mr. Kirkland lifted his chin up in a dignified sort of manner as he kept his poker face straight. On the inside, he was a raging tropical storm (most of you should get that reference). Someone questioning his sanity was something he could tolerate for a short amount of time. But outright insulting his education and ability to teach a student like Alfred crossed a line. "It's really quite amusing," he crossed his arms over his chest, "This is all coming from a man who used to be admired by hundreds and hundreds of students. A role model. I remember how you would have students who had graduated come back to see you or help around the classroom. Where did he go?"

Just because the Brit had gotten older didn't mean he didn't forget all those lovely memories from being in class. He had enjoyed it all as a small boy, just wanting to fit in with everyone else around him. New school, new people, new world almost. He had been absolutely terrified before meeting Mr. Bonnefoy. When he had gotten a question wrong on a test he wasn't scolded for being stupid, he had been praised for trying his best. When he talked to his imaginary friends then Francis would have played along, thinking of it as a phase Arthur had realized later.

He had always been told he was different but Mr. Bonnefoy had made him feel normal. Like he wasn't some sort of freak. He had been just like every other kid in his class when it came to his teacher's opinion. He had felt comfortable, safe, and unafraid.

Where had it all gone to?

"Z'at old sappy me?! 'e left once I was fired!" the Frenchman snapped, glaring daggers at him, "Jou don't understand anyz'ing so don't speak like jou're all high and mighty! Just getting some fancy certificate doesn't make jou a good teacher. I worked all of the first twenty years my life to do everyz'ing I could to support myself and z'e family I dreamed of 'aving someday. I z'ought z'eir moz'er was z'e one until z'e fighting started. One second we were exploding wiz' raw passion. Z'e kind z'e movies can't even portray or z'e books can't explain to its true feeling. Z'e next she was walking out z'e door with Alfred.

"I 'ad to raise Matthew alone. 'e was a perfect child really. Good grades, obedient, kind, 'ardworking, diligent… everyz'ing a parent could ever want. I saw Al every once in a while, when 'olidays rolled around. 'e was obnoxious, out of control, loud, and rebellious. At z'e time 'e showed promise wiz' 'is education but everyz'ing fell apart once his moz'er died. I grieved over 'er, but once my job was lost too I 'ad noz'ing to distract myself from z'e pain. Z'is is my way of coping. I will do it 'ow I please."

Arthur had the politeness and respect to listen to Francis all the way through before speaking. He had known a lot of it from Alfred talking about his past but some of it was new. That "politeness" though did not last long for him after that.

"Well guess what my dear friend? Everyone has shitstorms! Hell my whole life could be considered a damn shitstorm! You think all of this is so horrible and I admit, you've had bad things happen. I know that. But I've been in MENTAL INSTITUTES half of my education! I was taken out of society because I saw things no one else did. Because they were for sure I was 'insane'. I graduated a year early Mr. Bonnefoy. I got a job as a police officer before becoming a teacher. I have taught ten students over my two years working with education. I have a degree. I'm working. I'm happy. I'm healthy. So you want to hear the magical difference between you and me?"

He spread his arms out wide. "I didn't let shitstorms slow me down or bring me to the ground. I don't take my problems out on innocent people! I can proudly say I still keep my head held up high." He let his arms drop back to his sides and paused. "I admired you Francis. You were my idol. I thought I had found a friend when I had met you."

"Z'at was jour own mistake," Alfred's father grumbled, rolling his eyes a little.

Mr. Kirkland put his hands on his hips, eyes narrowed now as a steady stream of anger leaked out of him. "You didn't let me finish." Looking around the living room he felt his face contort into a look of disgust. "I'm revolted with myself now that I see what you have become. You're no longer someone worth gawking at."

BOOM! Mine two had just been set off. More damage than the first definitely.

Eyes locking with the blood stained on the coffee table the fury just got worse, building dangerously high. His head bowed, bangs concealing his eyes from the Frenchman's view. "Your sons have stayed by your side for so long. They have kept their mouths sealed for years as you have beat them, mocked them, scorned them, ABUSED them." His hands tightened into fists. "They are innocent children. Ones who have love just as much as you have. Ones who have pain you can't even fathom. Ones that have had their innocent stripped from them like a Band-Aid!"

His head snapped up as his eyes blazed with hot uncontainable rage. Green gems that seemed ready to explode into a shower of emeralds if not cooled soon. "They have seen things your nightmares would run from! Experienced pain you can't grasp with the mind of an ignorant dimwitted imbecile!" He glowered down at Francis who was actually starting to look startled. "Your 'useless' son has strived to complete his education! His determination is the kind I've never seen in my entire life! Not one of the people I have taken his to have called him 'stupid' or 'idiot' once they saw what he could do. What drives your son Mr. Bonnefoy?"

Blinking a few times Francis sat up straighter, eyes wide. "I don't know-"

"Because you don't pay attention to him!" Arthur yelled, the volcano finally erupting and exploding his fury everywhere. "He is flying through all of his classes, acing them to be exact, because he is so determined to prove every single bastard that has thought he was unintelligent WRONG!" He jabbed a finger at the Frenchie's chest. "If my sources are correct you are one of those people!"

FWOOSH! Mine three just caused the ground to shake. The flames are starting to spread dangerously.

Alfred's father grabbed his hand and got to his feet. "Do not touch or speak to me like z'at," he snapped, growling as he pushed the Brit back, "Jou are z'e one who fills his empty head wiz' z'e idea z'at 'e 'as a chance! And z'e way I discipline is my choice as a parent and none of jour damn business!"

Mr. Kirkland's eyes flashed, controlling himself from punching Francis right in the gut. "Discipline?! DISCPLINE?! Discipline, my good sir is a punishment with reasoning! There has always been a nice clear line between 'discipline' and outright 'abuse'! The moment you caused that child to bruise or bleed it became abuse! That line is long crossed! You have left it a mile behind you!"

He took a step back, letting himself calm down a little before he did something he would end up regretting. "Oh you may have been responsible for their birth Mr. Bonnefoy. You may have your name on the birth certificates and by the law you are one of their parents. But listen to me loud and clear when I say this." He looked Francis in the eye, all anger gone from his vision. "You will never, EVER have the right to be called their father after what you have done."

KA-BOOM! The field has been demolished. The war has broken out and there is no stopping it.

Before the Briton had a good idea of what was going on Alfred's father drove his fist right into his abdomen, knocking him down. Mr. Kirkland sucked in a gulp of air that his lungs had failed to keep before kicking at Francis as the Frenchman tried to pin him to the ground.

He managed to get to his feet and grabbed Mr. Bonnefoy's neck by moving behind him and slammed him hard into the ground. Frantically Francis elbowed Arthur hard in the ribcage and gave him a swift kick in the crotch. Biting back muffled, shrieks Mr. Kirkland rolled over and flipped him over onto his back. Once that was done he pinned his forearms to his back and pulled out a pair of handcuffs he had found in his room that morning.

The whole scene had just taken about 10 seconds.

Snapping the silver set on and locking it down he pressed Francis into the carpet, eyes narrowed. "One I shall say that was a very, VERY stupid move on your part. Two-" He got to his feet and dragged the Frenchie over to the coffee table. He then used some zip ties he had also brought in case of this situation and tied Mr. Bonnefoy to the table leg. "Never try to fight a police officer. Especially if you're drunk."

~Meanwhile~

Alfred had been finishing up cleaning the last bit of the blood and started getting ready to bandage when the yelling could have been heard loud and clear. He flinched slightly but didn't freak out for Matthew's sake. Not to mention he was pretty sure that Arthur had it all under control. After all he usually did.

Matt had already pretty much figured out what the yelling was from and his good eye looked up at Al. "What do you think the living room will look like when we get out there?" he asked with a small smile.

Chuckling the American cut a snip of white bandages. "Well I think dad is going to be knocked out and Arthur will be jumping up and down on his unconscious body," he admitted, grinning. Mattie laughed and held down the materials so his brother could tape it on securely.

"I think that dad will be just fine. Mr. Kirkland seems like a rather nice, nonviolent person in my opinion." Alfred choked on his own saliva and stared at Matthew as if he had just sprouted an extra heard or something.

"Mr. Kirkland?! 'NON-violent'?!" he snorted in amusement, "Oh believe me that man can be violent if he truly needs to be."

_Technically, it had been Antonio's fault that all of this had started in the first place. If the Spaniard has just listened to him and not follow him to class then the whole mess could have been avoided easily. But did he listen? NO._

_"Alfred please I just want to help you with your stuff!" Tonio whined, begging the American now. After become closer friends with the Spanish teen he had managed to tell him about how he was in a special class and such. Al huffed and turned around to look at his friend with a stern glare._

_"I've told you a million times Antonio! Mr. Kirkland doesn't really like me bringing people to his classroom!" he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "I'll talk to him about you coming down to have lunch with us today but that's it! Now please get to class before I get my ass kicked. Arthur always gets pissy when I'm late for class."_

_He let out a small chuckle and crossed his arms. "Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure Mr. Sixbrows has man periods or something. He always has a hot temper, seriously! It's like one moment he's flirting with me the next he's scolding me as if he's my mother."_

_"U-um Alfred-" Antonio started but the American was on a roll._

_"'Oh I'm Arthur Kirkland and I think you're all not good enough for me!'" he imitated in a squeaky British accent, "'England is SO amazing yet it smells like tea leaves and burnt food because no one can cook!'"_

_"Al-!"_

_"Wait I've got something better!" he cleared his throat dramatically before pulling a smirk, "'I'm not weird! I just decided to reinvent the word normal!'"_

_"Brilliant performance Mr. Um," someone said behind him dryly, followed by a slow clap. Shrieking Alfred jumped about five feet in the air and spun around to see a very unimpressed but slightly ticked off Mr. Kirkland. With his green, grey, and white sweater vest, pinstripe grey slacks, and grey formal jacked to go over the button up white shirt and vest it made the whole scene look like something from "Boy Meets World." Just great. "I do believe you should try out the fall musical now. You would make a wonderful Little Red Riding Hood."_

_"Why didn't you tell me he was right there?!" Al hissed to Antonio, face red with embarrassment. The Spaniard gave a small shrug and a sheepish smile._

_"I tried but you wouldn't listen."_

_Before the American could continue something latched onto his ear and tugged his head down. "OW! What the hell dude?!" he whined as Arthur started dragging him off in the direction of the classroom._

_"Say goodbye to your lovely friend. We have work to do." His voice had almost no emotion as if he didn't even care how much embarrassment Al was feeling at the moment, his face deep red._

_"Come on Arthur do you have to be such a dick right now?" he complained, trying to take the high-pitched moan out of his voice. Mr. Kirkland let go of his ear and shoved him into the classroom before turning to a shocked Tonio._

_"I'm so sorry for this terrible display of his. He's not always like this," he gave his "gentlemen" smile, "Have a lovely day sir." With that he shut the door behind him and gave Alfred a look that would make the sun turn to a ball of ice. "Alfred Foster Jones if you were in the English school system you wouldn't survive a day without getting caned! Next time you pull something like that I might just revert to the olden days and it will be a LONG time before you sit again."_

Again, Arthur scared the shit out of the teen sometimes. Your one and only crush threatens to beat your ass if you don't stop being such an idiot and if that doesn't work he'll take your organs out.

Charming.

"You like him, don't you?" Matt whispered, looking at the floor now. Startled Alfred dropped the roll of bandages.

"Goddammit!" He bent over to pick them up though his hand trembled terribly. How could have the Canadian guessed something like that so quickly? Especially if it took him forever to figure out that Matthew had been going on with some tough things as well behind the scenes. Maybe he was just easier to read. "And no I do not like him!"

Even with one eye, Mattie still managed to master the "how stupid do you think I am?" look. "You call him by his first name, you tease him like you've known him your entire life, you daydream all the time now, you have started to care about education for once since mom died, you enjoy school, you smile at him, and I heard you mumbling his name one night in your sleep," he listed off, crossing his arms with a smug expression. Being small and quiet made it easy to slip into the background, unnoticed. Of course that meant he knew things about people that gave them quite a shock once they realized what he had heard or seen.

To hide the blush on his face Alfred scowled and rolled his eyes. So it was all true but did he have to admit to all of it? "Whatever-"

"Didn't a certain someone just lecture me on telling the truth?" Matt chimed, now smiling innocently. The American paused and sighed, sitting down in front of his brother.

"A guilt trip? Seriously dude?" he grumbled but all Matthew did was let out a laugh.

"Oh come on Al you know it's my specialty," he winked (or blinked for all Alfred knew), "Now come on tell me what's up? I mean for one I didn't even know you were gay-"

"Neither did I!"

"Two," he continued, ignoring his twin for now, "Does he know that you like him in that sort of way? And three, do you think he likes you back in the same way?" Alfred sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, slumping in his chair a little.

"Here's your answers in order. I didn't even know I was gay, okay? Do you think I was born and the doctors were like, 'oh yeah this one will end up being a homosexual' or something like that? Sure girls are attractive but boobs really don't interest me that much…" he sighed, "Come on you get what I mean." Matt just gave a polite nod. "And about the whole does he know… the simple answer is a big fat no. I can't do that to him! I'm his student! I don't want to end up dating him and he gets fired."

"Alfred if you don't kiss him in public you should be fine," Matthew smiled a little, "Yes you'll have to keep it a secret and yes it'll be hard but if you're serious about him then you would be willing to work for it. Doesn't that make the tiniest bit of sense?" Alfred managed a small sheepish smile.

"It makes a lot of sense actually," he sat up and folded his hands in his lap, "Enough about my crap, what about the issue with you and Gilbert?" Immediately the Canadian's face fell and his gaze shifted to his shoes.

"Alfred please you need to stop obsessing over it-" Matt started but Al immediately cut him off.

"I have the fucking right to 'obsess' okay? You've lied, hid, and squandered my trust as if it meant nothing to you," he crossed his arms with his eyes narrowed behind his glasses, "If you can't even discuss how we should deal with this then how should I even believe you that there aren't any secrets?" It was a just question in his opinion. It was the same situation when a parent felt like they couldn't trust their child on the internet after seeing them look at porn.

Just a little more of a "I-don't-know-if-I-should-believe-you" thing than, "I-don't-trust-you-with-anything-anymore" feeling.

Matthew squirmed guiltily in his chair, eyes downcast now. "I want to solve it Alfie I really do but…" he sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Not everything is as simple as you make it out to be! Gilbert has my hands tied and there's no knives you can use to cut these ropes."

Alfred raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, pulling his "do you know who you're taking to?" look. How stupid did everyone even think he was?! Come on, he had common sense just like everyone else and basic knowledge of almost everything. Advanced in certain ones even according to Mr. Kirkland. "Tell the police! They can easily fix everything if you let them!"

The Canadian buried his face into his hands and trembled as tears spilled onto his cheeks. "You don't understand! They'll see that stupid picture! My virginity has already been stripped of me! I don't want my self-image and modesty taken by a bunch of strangers!"

Every thing was already starting to go black for Alfred as he comprehended it all. Some nude of his brother was out there, waiting to be shown off if Matt didn't obey that German bastard. Slowly his brain went on shut down mode. All he wanted was every-thing to be normal. For life to go back to the ways things should have been.

But then if this hadn't happened he would have never gotten that close with Arthur, or care about getting a truck, or his driver's license. A little turn of events that led to something great in the end.

Maybe the God's had been favoring him and the Brit.

To Be Continued… Maybe…


	13. Chapter 13

Alfred heaved a long sigh as he stroked Matthew's hair, the Canadian asleep from exhaustion. He was scared and felt as if his world was falling down around him. It was this feeling he didn't really know for sure how to describe. He was glad he had found Arthur and realized his true feelings but in this environment there was no way he would be able to even last a day. What was the word he was looking for?

Nervous? Stressed? Frustrated? Irritated? Oh what the hell, he didn't even need a word for it. He just knew that it's still effecting him deeply. It almost seemed as if someone was driving a knife into him over and over again, the flesh splitting like an eggshell.

Who knew after all of this he would end up so fragile?

All he knew was that he still needed to figure out what to do about the situation with Gilbert. Since his brother cried himself to sleep, talking with him was out for now leaving him with nothing. Just because he was set on protecting Mattie didn't mean he would sink low enough to deciding his fate for him. Being a big brother made him a helper, not his mother.

With his brain still in turmoil he didn't even realize Mr. Kirkland had come into the room until he heard the familiar clearing of a throat. His head snapped up along with the rest of his body. "Arthur," he got to his feet, "Did you talk to me dad? Is he okay about all of this? Can we leave this place? Will Matthew be able to come back to your house or something? Please tell me you didn't tell him about my staying at your house! He'll think we had sex or something and report it-!"

The Brit just about fell over when being pummeled with the cannon of questions. If he had ever learned something about Alfred, then when stressed or nervous his blabber mouth got about 10 times faster. Sticking a finger in his ear as he made his way to the teenager his other hand flexing a little. Once getting in close enough range his palm slapped over Al's mouth, silencing him.

"Alfred I want to be able to hear myself think in the future if you keep babbling like that," he said dryly, pulling his finger out and wiping it on a handkerchief from his pocket, "Now calm yourself down for goodness sakes. I can't even answer your questions if you shoot a million at me." The American blushed and gave a small nod, his trembling going down a good deal that was for sure. He really couldn't help it when he started talking nonstop, it was a good way to distract himself from whatever was making him feel like puking up his guts or biting his nails to the point that they bled.

But somehow, Artie still managed to calm him down every time he started to panic or get nervous. Just a few words or a gentle touch on the shoulder made his nerves settle a little.

Sorcery?

Moving past that Arthur removed his hand once he thought that Al had controlled himself. Wiping that hand as well, apparently the teen drooled, and cleared his throat. "Thank you. Now I am happy to say that your father has been… how do I put this in a way that won't get me arrested in a trial? …'put under control' if you catch my drift." Well that was the best thing he could come up with at the moment without saying "I beat your father up and handcuffed him to a side table" and such.

Fortunately Al got the gist of it and a grin spread across his features. "Oh man that's awesome! Please tell me you got it on video or something!" he added eagerly, clasping his hand together in an enthusiastic sort of manner.

Arthur shook his head while he chuckled a bit. "No I didn't get it on video…" he paused, eyes glinting in amusement, "But I really wish I did." Alfred whined a bit and flopped onto his back.

"No fair! That would have made like the number one viral video in the history of social media!" he moaned and let his arms go back as well, "I can imagine the title even! 'Wimpy British Dude Takes Down Drunk Bastard'! The newspapers would be dying to get the full story! You would be a star! You could quit teaching once I graduate and then live on a secluded island for the rest of your life!"

Mr. Kirkland rolled his eyes and smacked the American's knee. "Oh whatever get your head out of the clouds and talk to me." Once Al sat up all the way he could continue talking. "Now I know you're worried about the whole living situation since you're afraid your father will murder you the moment I leave, more or less, and I completely understand that. That's why I'm offering for you and Matthew to live with me until you both graduate."

It was a risky decision yes, but Arthur didn't want the twins to be in such a horrid environment. Living on their own seemed too risky and when trying to deal with getting a job, school, paying bills, AND Post Traumatic Disorder all at the same time then stress could skyrocket like NASA's funding needs. And he loved Alfred dearly, but the boy wouldn't have the maturity just yet to be living on his own. Leaving him to go out there and succeed was even more dangerous. If the school found out about it all, there was no guarantee he would keep his job.

He was terrified of something like that happening.

When the offer came out of the teacher's mouth Al's jaw dropped and hit the ground, or at least it could have if that was physically possible. Getting to live outside the house? WITH ARTHUR? His heart started thumping harder than ever and sweat built on his forehead. The situation would test him that's for sure. "U-um Artie are you sure? I mean I don't want to crowd up your house and I'm not sure you have the money to pay for two extra people-"

"Now hold on I didn't say it was all going to be free," Mr. Kirkland interrupted, crossing his arms, "I want you both to at least try to help pay for what you can when it comes to groceries and your necessities like adults. I'm not going to baby you or treat you like children because I know you can do much better than that. You'll be required to make meals, wash dishes, clean up around the house, clean yourselves, wash your laundry, keep up with school, pay for gas since you have your own truck, and so on. All of this will be without me having to keep on your back day after day. You're big boys, aren't you?

"Mind you this isn't permanent either," he reminded the teen quickly, "It's just until you can go off on your own with a somewhat stable job. I'm sorry that I can't support you two in a more stable home but this is the best I have at a short notice." He felt guilty for not offering more but the whole plan was simple and to the point. The Brit had a feeling that he already knew Al's answer anyway.

"What do you mean sorry?! This is amazing!" he got up and tackled Arthur with a hug, "You have no idea how much this means to me dude! To both of us! Thank you so, SO much~!" His emotions were bursting everywhere and it was as if a huge weight was just lifted off of his shoulders. No more worrying about if he was going to be safe that night, no fear of his brother's health, and he wouldn't had to deal with the stress of keeping their father at bay when he could.

He could act like a normal teen for once.

Mr. Kirkland's cheeks flushed a deep red once being embraced and awkwardly patted the American's back as he swallowed down the lump in his throat. "You're welcome love…" his features softened considerably and he nuzzled the crook of Alfred's neck, "I just don't want you to have to be in this shitty place anymore. You deserve so much better and so does your brother. With all of the stuff you two have been through this is long overdue."

Feeling the Brit rub against him Al found himself squeezing tighter and his hand running along his spine. Every bump made his skin crawl and slowly it moved down lower until it reached the base. He wasn't really sure what he was even doing, his muscles no longer his control, and something screamed at him to stop in the back of his mind.

If he didn't get a grip then Arthur would figure it all out.

Artie definitely felt the teen's hand traveling southwards but the feeling seemed to numb his other senses. What was going on with him? It was supposed to be just a hug, nothing more nothing less. A teacher and student just trying to display their friendship, right? Yet Alfred was starting to touch him in places that weren't exactly what most would define as "friendly". So why wasn't he doing anything to stop it?

Maybe it was because the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He wasn't the only one in love, so was Al. All this time the teenager liked him in the same way and he had been so oblivious to it he hadn't noticed! Maybe it was the stay at his house that turned the American so bold with his feelings but this meant that Arthur didn't have to be shy either. He could finally let his emotions explode and keep Alfred close to him, getting his feelings out there with no shame whatsoever. Yet there was still a problem with that.

Was he ready to go out and make a move?

Alfred finally realized what he was doing and jerked away, his arms flying back and his eyes widening. "D-dude I'm s-so sorry!" he stuttered as he fixed his glasses, "I just… I don't know… I didn't mean to!" Tears filled his eyes and he buried his face in his hands. "I fucked up…" All this time keeping these feelings locked up was just wasted. There was no way the teacher didn't understand all of it. He continued to tremble until feeling a hand rest on his shoulder.

"Al I'm not upset," Mr. Kirkland gave a small smile, "I'm quite the opposite actually. I know you probably didn't mean to do it and that's okay. I really don't mind." Taking a deep breath his hand traveled to Alfred's chin and tilted his head up. "And I really, really hope you don't mind this." Was he insane for doing this? Was he losing his mind to think that this would all work out?

Maybe. But that wasn't the point, it was in the very back of his mind at the moment actually. Sanity or not he didn't even care. All he knew was that his lips were pressing against Alfred's before the teen could comprehend what his words meant.

Surprise wasn't the exact word that really captured what the American felt once he realized Arthur was kissing him. His nervous system sparked like lightening, his cheeks flushed red, his senses began to tingle as they went on hyper drive, and his common sense shut down. His brain wouldn't think, his muscles wouldn't move, all he could do was soak in the moment.

It was the most amazing moment of his life.

After a few moments of silence the Englishman pulled away, his grip still on the teenagers chin. When seeing Al's eyes sparkle he knew that this was going to go just the way he wanted it to. No more hiding, no more lies, and no more silent pleads for affection. The secret was out and both enjoyed it.

Still trying to get over all that had happened Alfred blinked a few times, staring up at the Brit in awe. "Did you just..?"

"Yes."

"And I just..?"

"Correct."

"And you know that I..?"

"Mhm."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Arthur asked, tilting his head to the side, "It's obvious I like you back after what I just did." He let go of the teenager's chin and took a step back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "The real question is are YOU okay with that?" He hoped he hadn't made a horrid mistake with his rash actions, but he hadn't been thinking at the moment.

All Alfred could think of answering with was the blush spreading on his face, the heat of it just making him even more embarrassed. "I… um…" he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "I didn't really… think you would… you know… like me… being professional and all…"

Mr. Kirkland couldn't help but chuckle as he shook his head. "My goodness Mr. Um you never disappoint, do you?" he looked up with a smile on his face, "You're weird, obnoxious, loud, daft at times, and you can be the clumsiest person I know but…" He gave a sigh. "I do enjoy your company." Alfred looked down at the floor, the red on his cheeks managing to fade a little.

"You too dude," he glanced over at Matthew as he squirmed and he stroked his hair to calm him down a little, "Do you think we could actually make it work though? I thought teachers can't date students or something like that, right?" Arthur gave a small shrug, a smirk on his features.

"I would only get in trouble if we get caught love. It's dangerous, risky, and could be a stupid decision to most people but," he shrugged, "I would rather do this and get fired than reject my feelings and go on with my life feeling empty. Aren't you the one who said you wanted to go out with a bang at the end of high school?" Alfred blushed and brushed a strand piece of hair behind his hair.

"Well um yeah… and I guess you're right…" he gave a sigh, "I want to be able to tell my dad everything though. I don't want him to just sit there and think we've abandoned him. I know I don't like him and all but he used to be a very good guy before all this shit happened. If he went suicidal…" he trailed off and bit his lip. He had seen so many times where Francis had tried to take his life that it sometimes haunted his dreams…

_It had been a rather quiet night when Alfred got home from football practice. He smelled like sweat and must, and was rather exhausted. He threw his dirty jersey into the wash and went to lie down on the couch when he heard the front door slam shut. He hadn't realized his father hadn't come home yet, until now. "Uh, dad? Slamming the door isn't cool."_

_Usually Francis would blow up at him or something of the sort but this time all he heard was muffled grumbling. Frowning Al sat up and glanced at the entry way. "Hey you okay over there?" Silence. "Matthew is home already, since you care about him more anyway." Not even a growl. For once he was really starting to get worried about his dad._

_The American got to his feet and headed towards the kitchen where his father should have been. Yes the Frenchman leaving the house was odd enough but this was beyond weird. What he saw though left him just about speechless._

_Francis hunched over the counter, his face parallel to the stove's surface. His right hand gripped a pill bottle as the other turned the stove on all the way. His hair hung limp in his face and covered his eyes from Alfred's view. The teen swallowed down the lump in his throat and gave a nervous laugh. "D-dude come on what's going on? Are you okay?" his voice rose an octave, "You're scaring me a little." His dad slammed the pill bottle against the counter surface to crack it open before pouring a handful of them out._

_"Z'is will be enough to get z'e job done," the Frenchie mumbled to no one in particular, almost as if he couldn't even tell Al was there, "J-just z'is…" Alfred crept up behind his father, that bad feeling sinking inside of his stomach once again._

_"Dad what-?" he started but then Francis pressed the palm of his hand against the now red coils of the stove. There were screams heard, but not a single one from his father's mouth. It even took the American a few moments to realize he was even dragging the man away from the stove. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?!"_

_"Kill me!" Francis thrashed around in the teenager's arms, "Jou know jou want to! Just kill me! I don't deserve to even live! I should 'ave been in z'at damn car, not 'er!" He broke down into sobs, the stench of his burning flesh still clinging to him. "Please… just do it… please…" He also reeked of beer, a smell Alfred had truly grown accustomed to, and indicated that he was drunk beyond belief._

_"Dad…" Al sat down on the couch and rocked his father in his lap, keeping his head against his chest, "I could never kill you. Yeah we fight but that's normal, right? We're human beings for heaven's sake we're not perfect." He stroked the Frenchman's greasy hair a little. "Please… calm down… mom didn't want you to die either… you're okay…"_

The next day Francis hadn't even recalled any of the encounter. Then again a bunch of stuff like that was just normal everyday occurrences. When drunk memory decided to be very decisive and never remember the good or important stuff. Just fake memories and things that made people mad or sad.

Arthur glanced at Alfred and rested a hand on the teen's knee in a gesture of understanding. "I know it's a tough decision… and I know it's going to be even harder with such short time to make your choice… but this is important all around and I don't want you or your brother living in a horrendous environment such as this."

"The answer is no," someone interrupted, making both men jump. Al turned around to see Matthew sitting up all the way. The Canadian's expression was dull yet still looked angered, eyes narrowed, eyebrows slanted, frown on his face, and hair curl twitching almost.

"Mattie I didn't realize you had woken up!" the American stuttered, a nervous smile forced onto his face, "You'd never believe it! Mr. Kirkland just offered us-"

"I said 'no' and I mean it!" Matt snapped, crossing his arms and glaring daggers at his brother. Alfred's smile faded and he trembled a little as his brain started to piece up all the pieces of the puzzle.

"What do you mean dude?" he swallowed hard, "You aren't serious about-"

"I'm saying with dad Alfred!" Mattie got to his feet, "And I'm not leaving his side until I graduate."

To Be Continued… Maybe…


End file.
